


Mandala

by ptyx



Series: Mandala [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-08
Updated: 2004-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:25:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptyx/pseuds/ptyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape and Harry have to work on a potion inspired by a Navajo ritual. Harry has to cope with his attraction to death and weird feelings for the Potions master. Are those feelings mutual? Will they finally get along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Pure-Blood

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not an expert on Navajo culture. This is just a fictional story, not an anthropological essay.
> 
> Thanks to my beta-readers: Morgan D. (whole story), Teka Lynn (first part), Soulstar (second part) and Spinning Compass (from the second part on). Thanks also to Neotoma, for helping me with Navajo culture issues. All mistakes that remain are my own responsibility.

**PART 1 - A Pure-Blood**

 

The boy's placid expression didn't reassure Severus Snape. The whiteness of the skin showed the many months spent without seeing the sun.

"Poppy?"

"Yes, professor?"

"His condition hasn't improved in the three months that he's been here, has it?'

"Unfortunately, I don't think it has. He's just paler and thinner."

Snape felt guilty for not having devoted more time to his student, but the times had been hectic those latest months: Umbridge taking over Hogwarts, the Dark Lord penetrating Harry Potter's dreams, the battle for the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.

The whole story hadn't been unveiled yet. First, Montague had vanished. After having been warned of his disappearance, Umbridge had sent Filch and the Slytherin Prefect in search of him. Montague had only reappeared two weeks later, jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor.

Those events deeply shocked Snape. Having been himself a victim of abuse as a child, he didn't tolerate the idea that his students could suffer similar treatment. After all, everything indicated that the incident with Montague had been a... "prank".

A prank! Three months later, the boy hadn't recovered yet. Despite seeming to understand what people said to him, Montague had trouble expressing himself. And he seemed to be in deep depression. He couldn't even find the energy to get out of bed. In fact, he had also co-ordination and movement difficulties. What had been done to Montague was a crime, and the criminal remained unpunished.

Summer holidays were beginning. Snape would ask the Headmaster's permission to spend them in Hogwarts. He wanted to make use of his free time to do some Potions research. The next day, Pomfrey would go on holiday, and Montague wouldn't have an adequate place to stay. Snape had decided that the boy would stay at Hogwarts under his care. With a little help from the house-elves, naturally.

"Poppy, when he wakes up, please give him lunch and then call me. I'm going to take him for a walk outside. He's very pale. A little sunlight might do him some good."

~*~*~

After getting out of the infirmary, Snape went directly to the Headmaster's office.

"Bursting Bugs!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal the stone staircase that moved continually upwards like a spiral escalator. Snape stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind him and he was led to the oak door that... had already been opened.

"Severus, what a nice surprise!"

_As if I didn't know you, old codger. As if I didn't know that you were waiting for me, and that you already know what I'm going to say._

"Albus, I'm going straight to the point: Montague hasn't recovered yet. I can't believe that nobody is concerned by this case, that nobody is investigating it, that nobody is trying to find out the culprit! Only the culprit can give us indications of what happened to him and how we could try to heal him. And the culprit has to be exemplarily punished!"

"Sit down, please, Severus."

"Albus..."

"Calm down, my boy. I agree with you."

Reluctantly, Snape took a seat before the Headmaster's desk.

Dumbledore stared at him approvingly. "When this sad event occurred, Umbridge was in charge. Now, three months have passed. It's more difficult to find evidence, to make inquiries."

Snape got up immediately. "If you were committed to this case, the culprit would have been found. Call Potter and question him. I am certain he knows who did it."

"Don't forget that everybody is presumed innocent until proven guilty, Severus. And suppose I call Harry here and ask him if he knows who did it, and he simply tells us that he doesn't know? What do you suggest I do?"

"Of course the brat will say he doesn't know! When has he ever spoken the truth, Albus? But I ask you, what is Veritaserum for?"

"Severus!" Dumbledore got up suddenly and stared at the younger wizard, bewildered. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear what you've just said. Are you suggesting that I resort to contemptible methods to make a student to confess?"

Snape glared daggers at the Headmaster. "Oh, you are always so righteous, so irreproachable. Goodness personified. But if the student were a Slytherin, you wouldn't have so many concerns, would you? How many times did you use Legilimency on me?"

For an instant, Dumbledore lowered his eyes. When he raised them again, there was a different light in them, a light that didn't transmit his characteristic joviality. The older wizard's expression seemed to reflect guilt and pain. "Many times, Severus, I had to follow paths that I wouldn't have chosen if I could have avoided them. All in the name of my beliefs. In your case, in the name of the affection I held for you, and that I knew to be mutual, even if all your words and actions seemed to deny it."

Snape narrowed his eyes, his face twisting in a pained grimace. _Manipulative bastard. Even now you know precisely how to twist me around your little finger. But this time I won't let you._ "Precisely. When it suits you, you are ready and willing to break your bloody rules. However, between Montague and the Golden Boy, Montague doesn't stand a chance. Why is it that this reminds me of what used to happen between me and your beloved James, Peter, Sirius and Remus?" Snape pronounced the name of each of his archenemies between clenched teeth.

"I have already paid for my sins in full, my boy. I almost lost you, and even now I have to see you suffering due to the consequences of my acts."

Snape shook his head, relentless. "Albus, you are committing the same error again, when you protect that selfish and undisciplined brat. I don't want to hear any more of your false laments."

Dumbledore circled his desk and touched Snape's shoulders gently. "Don't worry, Severus, your student will recover. I'm going to see him as soon as possible, and then I'll talk with you again."

_Your student. That's how he sees Slytherin students. They are not *his* students. They are *mine*._

~*~*~

Indeed, the Headmaster had called him that same night and suggested the use of a potion based on his thesis on the "twelve uses of Dragon blood". It was a complex potion, which should magically stimulate certain brain areas. However, because nobody knew exactly what Montague's problem was, the results were unforeseeable.

Dumbledore had given Snape permission to spend his holidays in Hogwarts. He claimed to be delighted with that, because he himself would stay there, and they would spend "a wonderful time together".

Montague remained in the hospital wing for the entire length of the holidays. Snape had taken one week to prepare the potion. During that week, Snape had visited and taken him for a walk every single day.

When the potion was ready, Snape began to minister it to Montague on a regular basis. At first, he didn't notice any improvement. One day, however, Snape took him to the Quidditch pitch. As soon as they entered, something seemed to revive inside the boy, who now had a healthier appearance. Noticing the boy's reaction, Snape started to practice with him.

~*~*~

At the end of July, the students' NEWT and OWL marks arrived in Hogwarts. In the staff-room, Snape browsed the lists of Potion marks. Obviously, Hermione Granger had taken an "O". Draco Malfoy too. Ah-hah. Harry Potter had got an "E". That was wonderful. He wouldn't have to stand the Golden Boy's presence in his classes anymore.

"Severus?"

"Minerva? Already back from your holiday?"

"I came to talk with the Headmaster. I see that you have the list of the OWL marks..."

Severus Snape only arched one eyebrow at the Deputy-Headmistress, intrigued.

McGonagall sat by his side at the long oak table. "Severus, I don't know if you are aware that Harry Potter has manifested an interest in becoming an Auror."

"I'm not aware of anything regarding your protege, Minerva. Anyway, if that was Potter's intention, he should have worked harder in order to attain higher marks in Potions."

"That's precisely the problem. All his other marks are sufficient, by the other teachers' standards. But your standards are too high, Severus."

"These are my rules, and I've been implementing them for fourteen years. I won't change them just for the sake of Gryffindor's Golden Boy."

"Isn't there anything that I can do to make you change your mind?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and sneered. "Have you come here to bribe me, Minerva?"

McGonagall straightened up, pretending to be offended.

Snape shook his head. "If I let him pass, I'll have to do the same to all the students who took an 'E'."

"But not all the students who took an 'E' want to study Potions."

Snape quickly browsed the list. "Five other students got an 'E'. Two Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw and, from your House, Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Oh no. Longbottom! Minerva, you don't expect me to accept him into my NEWT class!" There was a spark of amusement in Snape's eyes.

"Neville is very good at Herbology. It would be a shame if he couldn't develop his abilities by being allowed to study Potions. Potions and Herbology are two sides of the same coin."

"Aha, but it wasn't for Longbottom that you came here to plead. It was for The Boy Who Lived."

"I admit that I haven't thought about Neville. But now I see that Neville's problem only reinforces my case."

"So, what do you have to offer me? Don't think that I would accept bargains involving the House points. You and I know very well that those points are a fiction, that in the end it's Albus who decides everything. And he always favours the Gryffindors."

"Severus!" McGonagall pretended to be shocked. "Very well. I... I have already talked to Albus about... about what I'm going to propose to you."

Snape snarled something incomprehensible, than faced his colleague. "And pray, what would that be?"

"We can have a Slytherin Head Boy this term."

A black eyebrow was raised. "This is interesting, indeed. Naturally, Flitwick and Sprout don't have a voice in this matter, considering that the choice belongs to the Headmaster..." Snape looked at McGonagall suspiciously. "Please tell me it wasn't the old meddler that has sent you here."

"Of course it wasn't. I have given my word to Harry that I would fight until my last breath to make him an Auror."

"Ha! If you haven't regretted it yet, you will soon. Right. Of course the old fool, who drools all over his Golden Boy..."

"Severus!"

"... must have found your idea superb. Very well. Axel Lescaux will make an excellent Head Boy.

McGonagall looked surprised. "Axel? I thought you would choose Gorm, or Estevez."

"Just because they keep licking my boots? Oh, Minerva, I resent that you would hold me in such low regard. And that you can't understand Slytherin's sense of hierarchy. Lescaux has character, he's not a sycophant."

"Don't be silly, Severus. It's not that. It's just that Axel, despite being an intelligent boy and having a strong character, is not a leader in the Slytherin House."

Snape's face acquired a sombre tone. _Draco is a leader, but I hope he will never be appointed Head Boy. Salazar forgive me, but I would rather see a Gryffindor in this position than Draco. Unless he changes drastically, but honestly, my hopes are not high._

Snape sighed and recovered his sardonic appearance. "Axel might not be a leader, but he will know how to make himself respected. Even by your little lions."

The two teachers stared at each other for a long time. McGonagall arched both her eyebrows.

"So?"

"I... would like to include another item in our agreement, Deputy-Headmistress," said Snape, in a mock-polite tone.

"You Slytherins aren't easily satisfied, are you?"

"It's not for my sake that I'm going to ask you this. It's for his own good. I would you to... abstain from interfering in the discipline that I might have to enforce upon Harry Potter. His knowledge of Potions is quite below the level required on my NEWT class, and he must make an effort to catch up. I want you to give me carte blanche so that I can put him on the right track."

"Severus, you're obsessed with torturing the boy! Harry is not James, when will you understand that?"

"Gibberish. The boy is unruly, lazy and selfish. If I have to put up with him in my classroom, I want to be able to deal with him in my own way."

"Oh, Merlin! I hope I won't come to regret this."

Severus Snape tilted his chin defiantly and flashed the most sarcastic smile from his repertoire.

~*~*~

In the entire holiday period, the Dark Lord called him only once. The meeting had been attended by the inner circle of the Death Eaters and, as always, hadn't been very pleasant. The primary topic had been: how to release from Azkaban Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters imprisoned at the battle of the Department of Mysteries? The more violent wing of the Death Eaters preached a direct attack. The "political" wing suggested unorthodox methods, like... bribes. The dissent was deep, and the decision had been postponed. Some of the members had been selected to do specific investigations. Due to his seclusion in Hogwarts, no mission had been assigned to Snape regarding that operation. So, despite the threats hovering on the horizon, Snape could rest a little during his holiday season. He had been able to resume some long-stalled research, and to practise Quidditch with Montague, with whom he was already able to have some sensible conversation. Nevertheless, the boy wasn't ready to resume classes and contact with the other students yet.

~*~*~

The first day of term had arrived - too soon, as always, in Snape's not-so-humble opinion. Locked in his dungeons, the Potions master hadn't seen the arrival of the boats, or of the Thestrals pulling the carriages. He had tried to take advantage of his last moments of peace to take some notes regarding one of his researches in progress, which - he hoped - would lead to a potion that, if previously taken, would attenuate certain effects of the Cruciatus. However, the time had come for the beginning of the Sorting Ceremony. Snape put on his robe and opened his doors, plunging into the darkness of the halls.

  
There weren't any students in the Great Hall when Severus Snape entered. Akhmatov, the mysterious new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who had been imported from Durmstrang for the year, was seated next to McGonagall's empty chair, at Dumbledore's right. Snape replied coldly to Akhmatov's greeting, only nodding, and took the empty chair at Dumbledore's left.

"Welcome, Severus!"

"Headmaster."

A strong uproar announced the students' arrival. As they entered, all of them, even those from the more advanced years, looked up at the ceiling of the Hall, gaping at the starry sky. Sorted into Houses, they began to sit at their respective tables.

Snape's eyes browsed the Hall and finally rested on the Gryffindor table, finding Harry Potter's. For a long moment, they stared at each other with intent interest and a gleam of challenge.

Then McGonagall entered leading the first-years, and the Sorting Ceremony began.

Elmer Albee, Hufflepuff; Mary Armstrong, Gryffindor; Sidney Austin, Gryffindor; Angela Azpilcueta...

"Slytherin!"

Slytherin students cheered and clapped Angela, who leapt from her stool and approached her House's table. Every Slytherin shook her hand. Axel Lescaux indicated her a seat and pointed to Snape, who greeted her with a nod.

Martha Barnes, Ravenclaw; Paul Caines, Gryffindor; Igor Cesko, Ravenclaw; Kai Clauschee...

"Slytherin!"

And a boy with tanned olive brown skin, and almond shaped slightly slanted eyes, flashed a smile of shiny pearl teeth. A shiver ran down Snape's spine. Kai Clauschee. What a strange name. An American native, perhaps. That was a new one! And the boy's expression! All that joy, all that innocence! Why Slytherin?

Kai Clauschee approached the table and everyone stared at him in utter stupefaction. Axel stepped forward to greet him. Some other Slytherins followed his example; others - including Draco - looked at the professor's table, searching for the approval of the Head of their House. Snape nodded with a certain exasperation, and everybody started to greet the strange boy more cheerfully.

Snape turned to the Headmaster, at his side. Dumbledore gazed at him with his glimmering blue eyes.

"The boy is a Navajo. His parents came to work in the Department of Mysteries. For a secret project, it goes without saying. Nobody knows how long they will have to stay here, and as he has turned 11 in June..."

"A Navajo!"

"Don't worry, Severus. He's a pure-blood. His father is a wizard, and his mother is a witch."

"Ahaha! Pure-blood. A redskin."

Dumbledore looked at him with severity. "Don't call him 'redskin'. They consider this term offensive."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I can be politically correct, if you want. You know very well I am not the problem here. There are _others_ in my House that won't accept him as an equal because of the colour of his skin."

Then Dumbledore rested his hand over Snape's arm on the table, and squeezed it, smiling. "Can you imagine Lucius Malfoy's expression if I told him: 'Malfoy, the boy's a pure-blood'?"

Snape lowered his head and covered it with the other arm. It would be so embarrassing if he was seen cackling at the Sorting Ceremony.

Besides Kai and Angela, the Hat selected seven more students for Slytherin.

~*~*~

Severus Snape entered the Slytherin Common Room, where his nine first years waited for him scattered on coaches and armchairs, creating pandemonium - under Draco's vigilance. How could only nine brats create such turmoil? As they saw Snape entering, however, ten pairs of eyes stared intently at him, and the nine children sat in respectful attitude.

"You may go now, Draco. Thank you. I'm going to change the password while I talk to them, for I don't want any interruptions. It won't take long, though. Fifteen minutes, approximately."

"All right, professor."

While Draco went out, Snape flicked his wand at the door. Then he chose an armchair and sat in front of his students.

"I know that you must be exhausted; you have had a day full of new experiences. I won't make a long speech; after all, I am very tired, myself."

Kai's lips curled in a half-moon smile. One of the corners of Snape's lips curved downwards, in the best imitation of a smile that he could conjure.

"I want to tell you that you should be proud to have been placed in Slytherin. However, many students from other Houses will tell you otherwise. They will tell you that Slytherin is not a good House. Don't pay attention to them. What is really important, for those who belong to Slytherin, is that we keep united, that we defend our House and its members."

"Professor?" said Carla Stark, a blond girl, raising her hand.

"What is it, Miss Stark?"

"Is it true that all the Dark wizards came from Slytherin?"

"No, Miss Stark, it is not true. It's precisely that kind of statement that you should repudiate. Our House's strength depends on our union. If any student from other House assaults you, verbally or physically, and if you aren't strong enough to repel this assault, you should call for a student from a higher year. Have you all understood?"

"Professor, what's repu... repudiate? And repel?" asked Duane Kildare, grandson of a Death Eater killed in the previous war.

Snape sighed. Every year, the first years' vocabulary diminished. He prepared himself to answer the question, but the Navajo boy spoke first:

"What the professor's trying to say is that, if someone says something bad about our House, we have to say that they're wrong. And if we have some problem, or if someone's trying to, let's say, to beat up some Slytherin kid and if we can't make him stop, then we should ask the older students for help."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Very good, Clauschee. You are a good translator."

The Navajo boy flashed his astonishing smile again. "That's because I've spoken two languages since I was very young, and many times I have to explain things for people that can't speak one of those two languages! And you know, professor, I understand very well what you're saying because we, Diné (or Navajos, as you say), are like that. Among us, there is no 'I'. We only think as 'we'."

"Your people are wise. That's it. The strong point of our House is our union. And that means also that we mustn't create any division between us. If someone is a Slytherin, she or he is one of ours. It doesn't matter if their parents are both pure-bloods, Muggles, or halfbloods. It doesn't matter if the person is white, black, yellow, red or green." The children laughed. "It doesn't matter if they are born in England or in Tasmania. It doesn't matter if they support the Wimbourne Wasps or the Chudley Canons." Some of them exchanged significant looks. "It doesn't matter if they are rich or poor, if they are famous or unknown." _It doesn't matter if they are hetero, homo or bisexual,_ thought Snape, but he didn't say it out loud. They were too young for this kind of discussion and, even if they were seventh years, he wouldn't dare. He wouldn't add another excuse for persecution to the many others that had already been used against him. "I don't care about what you say to the other Houses' students, but within Slytherin I won't tolerate these divisions. I'm not saying that you should treat the other Houses' students as enemies. It's not that. I'm only saying that life inside Hogwarts is not easy for those who belong to Slytherin, and that we need to be united. I hope you all have understood. If you have any problems, go talk to your House's Prefects, or to the Head Boy. If they can't solve your problem, they will direct it to me."

~*~*~

It would be the first Potions class of the sixth year, assembling students from every House. Normally, sixth and seventh year classes weren't as tiresome as those of the first years, because only those selected few who had obtained the high marks required by Snape were allowed to take them. But this year...

Snape arrived some minutes before starting time, and he entered the classroom quietly, almost floating over the floor. He stopped near the entrance. A frightening scene was waiting for him: Draco Malfoy and Goyle - now without Crabbe, who hadn't obtained the minimum marks, even after the lowering caused by the admission of the Golden Boy - heroically fighting Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, in a jinx and insult war.

"How are you going to run to your daddy now?" shouted Potter, ducking to dodge an_ Impedimenta_. "Poor Draco-kins, Daddy can't save his arse now. Daddy's paying for all his haughtiness and is going to rot in Azkaban."

Drawing half a step back and then advancing, Snape made his dramatic entrance into the classroom. The duel scene froze. Gradually, every participant tried to pull himself together and reach the nearest seat.

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, what a splendid way to start the term. Detention for both."

Harry Potter's face turned white, and he grasped his desk with clawed hands.

"Why only us, Gryffindors? They started it," he dared to say, gritting his teeth.

"Mr Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. And be silent. One more word and I'll send you to Filch right now. At the end of the class, you, Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom and Miss Abbott should remain in the classroom."

From his desk, Snape could see Weasley, Granger and Potter whispering. Probably complaining about how unfair the overgrown greasy bat was. Wonderful. What a splendid way to begin a term.

"Today we will study the Aesculapius Potion." Snape flicked his wand to the blackboard. "The ingredients to be used and the preparing method are on the blackboard. You have an hour and a quarter to prepare the potion."

More whisperings from the Gryffindors. Why, oh why, must there be a House like Gryffindor? Snape never had similar problems with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

The class proceeded without major incidents. Probably with Miss Granger's help, Potter and Longbottom had obtained a passable result. And Weasley's potion had turned out astoundingly good. By sheer luck, no doubt.

When the last student - Hannah Abbott - arrived at his desk to give him her potion, Snape put a label on it and got up.

"Very well. Class is finished, you are all dismissed... except for the students I have mentioned previously."

The students left the class in a bustle.

"Mr Potter, you should wait at the back of the classroom. You will be the last one I will talk to. The others may come to my desk."

With an impatient gesture and almost stomping across the floor, Potter retreated to the last row. Hannah Abbott, who was already in the front of the classroom, only waited. Neville approached the desk, trembling. In Ron Weasley's face, an expression of concern and disgust. The three students gathered in front of Snape, who had sat behind his desk.

"As you know very well, you shouldn't have been allowed in this class. You are here due to the intervention of the Head of Gryffindor House. But this doesn't mean that I deem you fit for my class, and that I will let you behave as if you were so. I will demand of you special diligence. If you don't reach the level of competency of the others, you will have to take Remedial Potions. So, it's up to you: devote yourselves to the study of Potions. That's all. Mr Weasley, detention tonight at eight o'clock, in my office."

"Yes, sir," said Longbottom and Abbot. Weasley only scowled.

They went out silently, while Harry Potter approached the desk of his most hated professor.

"Potter, the scene I've witnessed when I entered in my classroom must not be repeated. I've had enough of your arrogance. I will not allow you to treat any of the students of my House, or of any other House, in such a way. You are not special, you are not better than anyone."

"Look here," replied Potter. "Malfoy..."

Snape stood up dramatically.

"Shut up," he said very low, dangerous tone. "You were mocking your colleague's feelings, taking advantage of his suffering and concern for the imprisonment of his father."

"His father is a..."

"I know better than you who his father is! This is not the question. Ten points from Gryffindor. In my class, there is no such thing as a son of this or son of that, are you listening? Draco is a student - much better than you, by the way -, and he has the right to be respected." Snape circled his desk, and approached the student, looming before him. "You should know better. You should respect Draco's situation, being, as you are, the son of a notorious bastard and coward."

Potter's eyes widened and the blood left his face. A tremor of rage passed through him while he glared at Snape. The Potions master glared back at him with a shiver of pleasure. He had the boy under his control. He could provoke any reaction he wanted in Potter. That was quite enjoyable and exciting.

"It's not fair," grumbled Potter between clenched teeth. "You can't talk that way about my..."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter. Don't forget to call me 'sir' every time you address me. And if you don't stop questioning my decisions, I'm going to put you in detention every single night of the week."

Now Potter's expression revealed all his helpless pain. Oooh. Those rare instants in which he could keep the boy under his absolute control were well worth the nuisance of having to tolerate the boy's presence in his class.

Potter was already leaving, considering himself dismissed, when Snape called him back.

"Potter."

"What is it... sir?"

"Your House's Head allowed me to administer you as many detentions as necessary in order to correct your behaviour. And she will be informed of your deplorable behaviour in my class today."

Potter lowered his head and dragged himself out of the classroom. Snape watched him attentively, and sneered, satisfied at having humiliated the boy once more. However, a strange feeling of emptiness gnawed at his soul.


	2. A Dark Path

**PART 2 - A Dark Path**

 

The silver instruments whirred and emitted little puffs of smoke. The portraits looked at him with sleepy faces. Fawkes seemed oblivious to what was happening around him.

"Harry, I insisted that you should resume your Occlumency lessons because we can't leave you unprotected against Voldemort. There's a strong bond between you, and he may use it to try to induce you to do things, or even to possess you."

Harry knew all that perfectly well. He had heard it before, many times. He stared with tired eyes at the Headmaster, and didn't say a thing.

"Very well. There's nothing to be afraid of, Harry. I'll just teach you to block your mind. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded.

"Three, two, one, _Legilimens!_"

Harry was walking through the Department of Mysteries, fascinated with everything he saw. Tanks of brains, shelves of prophecies. Once again, the hourglass was following its endless cycle. Slowly, he approached the Veil Room. Like a siren's chant, the veil attracted him. It would be so nice just to let himself go. As he got nearer, numbly, he saw many figures moving on the other side. He saw Sirius's figure, quite clearly. Behind Sirius, Lily smiled at him.

"Harry, you aren't trying to block me!"

Startled, Harry gazed at the Headmaster with widened eyes. Then he blinked.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster. I got distracted."

"Those images... are they from a dream of yours?"

"I don't know, Sir. I think so."

The Headmaster tried again, once, twice. All in vain. Harry always went back to the veil, and didn't offer any resistance. Eventually Dumbledore laid down his wand and gazed seriously at his student.

"Harry, do you feel attracted to the idea of death? I understand that Sirius's death has unsettled you, but wouldn't it help to think of positive things? You have to find new aims that help you to go on, a new source of energy."

~*~*~

Harry left the Headmaster's office crestfallen. How could he think of positive things if his destiny was to face Voldemort and kill him, or die? Harry didn't want to be a murderer. He would rather die. But if he had to die, then why not right now?

Oh, to the Wizarding World, that would be terrible: if he died now, he wouldn't save the world from the bloody villain's claws. Great. So, he would have to kill the monster and become, once again, The Boy Who Lived. A Wizarding World hero. He already knew how it felt, and it wasn't fun at all.

Harry checked his watch. It was almost lunchtime. Instead of going upstairs, to his dormitory, Harry went down to the entrance hall and out of the castle. He walked to the lake. Near its banks, he found a step in a slope, and sat down there. Then he heard footsteps behind him. Turning his head, he saw the mysterious Navajo boy, about whom everybody in Hogwarts had been talking since the beginning of the term, coming in his direction.

Soon, the boy was at his side, his small teeth shining as he smiled.

"Hello, Harry Potter! My name is Kai."

Harry grimaced. All he wanted at the moment was to be alone, but now he would have to cope with a nosy eleven-year-old.

"What do you want?" he asked crossly.

The boy sat at his side. "It's just that... I heard people saying that... that you've lost someone you loved."

A deeply saddened expression reflected in the older boy's eyes. "Who said so?"

"Oh. It doesn't matter. What I wanted to tell you is that... well, he's not dead."

"What? How come? I saw when he passed through... when he died."

"You know, my people hate death. If I were in my territory, I wouldn't even be allowed to say this word. Our families try to get people outside before they die, and if it can't be done, then they'll knock a hole in the wall because they don't want the chindi... er, the evil part of the person to remain. And when someone dies, his entire hogan is burned."

Seeing Harry's puzzled look, Kai explained, "A hogan is what you call a house, or like, a home. Everything that belongs to the dead person must be burned along with their body. Before I came here, my father said to me that Hogwarts wasn't going to be like a hogan to me, because here, in these lands, each person's hogan is their own being. You are your own hogan. This idea is weird, but now I'm getting used to it. If he hadn't explained this to me, I wouldn't be able to stay in Hogwarts, because there are those ghosts... they are evil... Many people died here, and I can feel their energy hovering around the castle. In the beginning, I couldn't sleep, and I kept repeating to myself: 'Hogwarts is not my hogan'." The Slytherin boy broke off and raised his eyes to Harry, apparently realising that he had spoken about more than he had intended. "Has anyone seen the corpse?"

"No, but..."

"If there's no body, there's no death."

"You don't understand. He passed through the veil."

"The veil in the Department of Mysteries?"

"How do you know about it?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Well, my parents are working there. Here, I'm going to explain everything to you. There are four or five worlds."

"Four or five?" asked Harry, sardonically.

"Well, it depends on who you talk to. My parents taught me that there are four worlds, and that the fifth world is still to come. Before anything, there was the First World, which was dark and barren, black as black wool. The Holy people and the Air Spirit People - the insects - inhabited it. There was also a Black God, the Fire God, which is a dark masculine force within the feminine - do you know the Chinese yin-yang symbol, where the black dot of yang lies within the light side?"

Harry nodded.

"It's the same idea. The Fire God is deeply buried in the core of the Mother Mountain. He is slow and old, but also very brave and calm when he has to face danger. He's amazing! But the Air Spirit People misbehaved and did immoral things, and the Fire God got angry and forced all the earliest beings to go up through a hole in the sky to the next higher world, the Second World."

The Navajo boy breathed deeply and continued. "The second world was blue, and there the earliest beings were well received by the Swallow people, or Cave Dwellers, who lived on the mountains. But again they had to move on. First Man had a struggle with the Cat People, who were tricksters. A being named Begochidi created a pair of twins, male and female, and allowed the Fire God to kill them to become transmitters of life.

"Driven up to the third world, which was yellow, the beings met the Snake People. Begochidi created the rivers, as well as animals and birds, and plant life. All spoke one language.

"The fourth world was blue or white, and there the union between man and nature was broken. The four sacred mountains were created, in the four directions, North, South, East and West, in its four colours - White Shell represents the east, Turquoise the south, Yellow Abalone the west, and Jet Black the north - as well as the hogan, which represents the universe in miniature. The sexes became segregated. Men began to become conscious of what they did."

Kai breathed deeply again, and Harry asked, "It's in this world that we live?"

"Yes. And that veil, it must be the passage to the Fifth World."

"And what is this Fifth World?"

"The prophecy says that the Fifth World will bring peace and harmony. There will be changes on the soil and the waters. People's feelings will change too. There will be new colourful dreams and the Rainbow Warriors will appear: they will learn how to keep the balance. The changes on Mother Earth will bring fear to her children, but, later, they will lead to the Conscience of Unity of the world and all its people."

Harry gazed at Kai with tired eyes. All that was a load of mystic codswallop, as far as he was concerned. "Kai, go and talk to Luna, okay? She'll love your ideas."

"Uh, I've already talked a lot with Luna. She's kind of crazy, isn't she? But she's a nice girl."

Harry grimaced.

"So, Harry, don't be sad. Your friend must have been a very special person, if he could pass to the Fifth World."

"But the veil is right there, in the Department of Mysteries. Anyone could go there and pass through it to get to this Fifth World, isn't that right?"

"I don't know, Harry. I only know that your mission is not in the Fifth World, it's right here. You are the only one that can defeat... You-Know-Who."

Harry started. "What makes you say that?"

"My father is a very powerful wizard, and he told me so."

"If this is true, if I have to stay here and fight Voldemort, it makes no difference if my friend is dead or not," said Harry, losing his patience. All the frustration of the last months seemed to be rising to the surface. "I still can't be with him."

"You are ill, Harry. If you want, I can make a Sandpainting for you. It's an important part of many healing ceremonies. I can be your singer."

"Make what? No, thanks, Kai. I'm not ill." Perhaps the boy's intentions were good, but Harry didn't believe a word that he had said. "And why are you trying to help me? You're a Slytherin!"

Kai stared at him, astonished. "If you're going to save the world, then you're important to us Slytherins too."

Harry shook his head in amazement. "Why on earth did the Hat put you in Slytherin?"

"I asked it to. The Big Snake is terrible and transforms men into snakes in his anger, but he has always been my friend, because without him, there wouldn't be any healing ceremonies."

"Healing, healing, healing. Maybe you should go and be a doctor."

"Among my people, there's no division between wizards and those you call Muggles. We live perfectly well together. And the wizards are the _hataalis_, the healers. My father's a healer, and I'll be one when I grow up too."

More and more surprised, Harry stared at the younger boy. How would that boy survive in Slytherin?

~*~*~

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Potions classroom and found seats at the back. This year, Snape required that each student work at separate cauldrons, and hadn't let Harry sit beside Hermione. So Ron and Hermione sat in the last row, with Ron at the end; and Harry sat in front of Hermione. The seat to Harry's right, in front of Ron, remained vacant.

Snape arrived and slammed the door behind himself. When the class heard the door bang, they all stopped chatting and sat in silence, as always.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that is an antidote to many poisons, especially to the powerful Devil's Trumpet. One interesting aspect of it is the absence of bezoar in its composition. It constitutes an important alternative to be used on the occasions when an antidote is required and bezoar is unavailable. Pay attention and be warned: if you make the slightest mistake, the antidote won't work." Snape flicked his wand toward the blackboard. "As usual, the ingredients and method are on the blackboard, and you will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half to complete the potion."

It was another of those potions in which the ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities. The mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, first clockwise, then anticlockwise; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right temperature for a specific amount of time between adding each ingredient.

"Ron, you're not supposed to add the dried Billywig stingers now!" exclaimed Hermione. "Have you skipped a whole paragraph of the instructions?"

"Uh? Billy who?"

Hermione gave a deep sigh.

"Oh, Hermione, leave me alone! You find fault in everything I do," Ron complained.

There they were, arguing with each other again. It was getting worse and worse all the time. Distracted, Harry forgot to lower the heat.

"If you are doing everything correctly, your potion should now be changing from green to crimson," commented Snape to the class.

Harry looked at his cauldron and saw an irremediably vomit-green potion. He turned around to look back at his friends. "Hermione, my potion's still green. What can I do?"

Harry saw Hermione raise her eyes above his head and gain a nervous expression. Slowly, Harry turned back around and found himself facing Snape's dark figure.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

"Sir?"

"Why is your potion green? And why such a sickly green colour?"

"I don't know, Sir."

The Slytherins began to giggle.

"Did you lower the heat at the right time? After adding the leech juice?"

"Er, Sir..."

"Potter, you were not paying attention, yet again. It is becoming a routine with you. I've warned you that you would have to make an effort to catch up with the rest of the class. Now I have no alternative. You will have to take Remedial Potions. Twice a week."

The Slytherins were in Heaven. Draco Malfoy grinned from ear to ear. Blood began to rise in Harry's face. He clutched his desk tightly to prevent himself from reacting.

"Tomorrow, six o'clock PM, in my laboratory," said Snape.

"Yes, Sir."

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's cauldron.

"_Evanesco._"

Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. It wasn't the first time that Snape had done this to him.

"Those of you who paid attention to the instructions and therefore now have a crimson potion in your cauldron, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it with your name and bring it up to my desk," ordered Snape. "Homework: thirteen inches of parchment on the ten poisons officially classified as most dangerous and their antidotes, to be handed in on Thursday."

Ron's flagon contained a brownish potion, but Snape didn't make any comment when he received it. Hermione's potion was perfectly crimson, of course, as was Draco Malfoy's.

And Neville's too! Neville seemed to be getting better every day. Only Harry managed to get worse and worse as time went on.

~*~*~

Joy of joys. After that silly bickering in Potions class, Ron and Hermione weren't on speaking terms again. Worse: Hermione thought that Harry had made things easier for Snape by not paying attention, which had left Harry enraged, and Ron couldn't care less about Harry's drama: Ron was only concerned with his duties as Prefect and his Quidditch performance.

Quidditch. Harry was the new Captain. He didn't want to be, but he and Ron were the oldest players, and Ron was busy being a Prefect and... sucked at Quidditch. Harry felt terrible, because nothing, not even Quidditch, had the same appeal for him as before. What he most liked to do was flying on his Firebolt. But now he was the responsible for the entire team.

  
He had scheduled practices on Wednesdays and Fridays, at 6 PM. Now he would have to postpone the Wednesday practices to some other day at some hour after 8 PM, since everything seemed to indicate that on Mondays and Wednesdays he would have Remedial Potions at 6 PM. Which was the same hour in which he had Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Great.

Cynically, he could see only one positive aspect in all that: he wouldn't have to train Dumbledore's Army any more. His friends wanted him to continue as their leader; Harry wasn't very happy with this prospect, but if his timetable allowed him to do it, he would have had to accept it - he wouldn't have let his friends down. With _that_ timetable, however, it was impossible. After all, he needed some time during the week to do his homework. Trying not to feel guilty, Harry told himself that Akhmatov, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, despite being mysterious and non-trustworthy (he had come from Durmstrang!), didn't look so bad.

~*~*~

"Harry, you are now able to block my access to your mind, when you focus your attention. However, I've been noticing that you are using anger to do so. As with every time that we use negative emotions as a tool, it can be a double-edged sword. Your opponent might push you, nurture your rage until you lose control." Dumbledore gazed at him with his infinite compassion, and that irritated Harry more than anything. "My advice is the same I have been giving you all these weeks: try to find something positive on which to focus your mental energy, your soul power."

~*~*~

At least in Snape's laboratory, in front of all those despicable jars, Harry could feel solitary. As soon as Snape finished giving him the instructions for the evening's work, he left Harry alone. He wouldn't go too far away but, working at another potion in a cauldron some feet away from Harry, he seemed so concentrated in his work that it was as if he wasn't there at all.

That was weird. Because, when Snape wanted the attention of a student, it was impossible to ignore his presence. But there in his laboratory, if Harry didn't make any strange noise, or didn't call him to ask for some help - which he seldom did - Snape's presence was inconspicuous, almost intangible.

Snape didn't keep him on a short leash and didn't lecture him while he was preparing the potion. Only at the end of the sessions the professor examined the potion meticulously and made his acerbic, cynical remarks. He never praised Harry and, while his criticisms were accurate and to the point - one must acknowledge that he had mastered his subject admirably - the tone in which they were uttered was always full of contempt and hate for the student.

However, Harry was getting used to that. All summed up, Remedial Potions allowed him the calmest moments in his life. Without Ron and Hermione's bickering to torment him; without having to scold his Quidditch teammates and listen to their complaints; without the impossible counsels of Dumbledore. And without the tension of Potions classes, in which the presence of the Slytherins and the other students seemed to encourage Snape's bullying.

Sometimes, when he arrived at Snape's laboratory, Harry found Kai there. The first times it had happened, Snape had dismissed Kai. The boy would greet Harry and say goodbye to Snape, with his characteristic cheerful smile.

Until the night Snape _didn't_ dismiss Kai: he left Kai stirring, with all his might, the great cauldron in which Snape usually worked, and approached Harry to give him instructions about the potion that he would have to prepare in that class. Then, while Harry started to gather the ingredients for the potion, Snape took his place at the large cauldron and asked Kai to do something for him.

"Potter, don't allow yourself to become distracted. You must learn to focus even in the presence of other people."

Harry sighed and tried not to pay attention to the interactions between Snape and the Navajo boy. He couldn't help noticing, however, that Snape didn't treat him badly, and that the boy seemed to idolise his teacher.

~*~*~

Almost two months had passed without any remarkable event, except for Lucius Malfoy's and his Death Eater friends' escaping from Azkaban without leaving any trace. This caused Draco to regain part of his lost confidence and become more and more insufferable. Nothing special had occurred on Halloween - what an utterly boring party that had been. Gryffindor had won the first Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff. And Slytherin had defeated Ravenclaw.

After the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match, there was a field battle at the Quidditch pitch. The Ravenclaws had resigned themselves to defeat, but the Gryffindors had insisted that the referee (Hooch had been ill on the day of the match, and one of her apprentices had been chosen as referee) hadn't called a foul at a key moment in the match. Harry had been one of those who had complained the most, and he had happily joined the jinx battle against the Slytherins. The battle had been stopped by the clever intervention of the Head Boy, Axel Lescaux, who had cast an _Impedimenta_ on every brawler. Gryffindor and Slytherin had lost fifty points each in the House Competition. After that, Ron had argued with Hermione again, because she had criticised the Gryffindor boys' behaviour and he had become furious with her lack of house spirit. After all, the referee had cheated!

Harry hadn't found anything positive to focus on, but was getting better and better at Occlumency nonetheless. Sometimes he could even block Dumbledore, counter with a shield charm and penetrate into the Headmaster's mind for some seconds. The Headmaster reprimanded him in his gentle manner, saying that Harry had to work to bring out his positive side.

Those classes expanded his perceptions gradually. Notwithstanding, apparently he was using the dark forces to achieve his goals.

~*~*~

He was getting more and more powerful. He could feel it when he blocked the older wizard and, in doing so, managed to penetrate Dumbledore's mind. It was more or less like looking into a pensieve.

__   


Dumbledore was approaching a person who had fallen at the castle's doorstep. The fallen figure, all dressed in black, contorted himself, trying to get up. In his hands, a mask.

Now Harry was able to recognise his silhouette.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, kneeling at his side. "Mobilicorpus!"

Dumbledore didn't take Snape to the infirmary, but to his personal quarters, laying him on his bed.

Everything went black and, for a brief instant, Harry regained consciousness of present time. However, he wanted to see more. He didn't recognise his own voice saying "_Legilimens_."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, surrendering to the power of the younger wizard.

__   


Now Snape was awake, sitting up in the bed, and Dumbledore sat at his side, on a chair.

"What happened, my boy?"

"He... he thinks that I know the rest of the prophecy. He tried to penetrate my mind in order to find out what he wants to know."

"And then?"

Snape's face creased with pain. A whimper threatened to escape his throat, as coming from the depths of his soul. It was quite frightening to see the wizard in such a vulnerable state, and doing his best to regain his composure.

Dumbledore approached him and held him, cradling the other wizard's head against his chest.

"Severus..."

"Albus, I don't know if I'll be able to hide from him that I know. It wasn't easy to empty my mind so that he could enter without any obstacles and not see anything."

"Then he couldn't extract from you what he wanted?"

"I don't think he could." Snape let himself stay with his head leaning against Dumbledore's body. "He used Imperius and Cruciatus too, just for some practice." Then Snape pulled his head back and stared at Dumbledore with resentful eyes. "Now that the prophecy ball has been destroyed, I am his only hope of recovering its contents. I've told you to cast a Memory Charm on me. Why do I have to know that damn prophecy? It wouldn't be..."

"Severus, Memory Charms should not be cast whenever we feel like it, just because we can. And you must be in possession of as many details as possible in order to make the correct decision when need be."

Harry was still staring at Snape's pained face, when the image faded out.

Leaving Dumbledore's mind, Harry glared daggers at him.

"That's... that's inhuman! Why do you make him go through this?"

Dumbledore lowered his head. Harry went out of the Headmaster's office, banging the heavy oak door.

~*~*~

That night, Harry slept very badly. His not so rare nightmares intensified, with the only difference that now Snape was the constant victim of Voldemort. Or, even worse, of Dumbledore.

_What do I care if he's being tortured?_ Harry asked himself, and shivered. _He's a greasy, ugly git._

Greasy and ugly. That was so insignificant, so childish, so petty in face of what Snape was enduring. What did it matter if he was ugly or greasy?

_But he's a sadistic bastard._

What did Harry know about Snape's history? Very little. But the little that he knew... all those scenes of the boy seeing his mother cornered by a man who seemed to be his father, of him alone in his bedroom casting spells on flies, of him being mocked by a girl because he couldn't fly; the pensieve scene, in which Harry's father and his friends humiliated and bullied him; and now, that scene in Dumbledore's mind... everything, absolutely everything, told him about extreme suffering. Harry himself would turn into a sadistic person if his life contained nothing but those heart-wrenching memories, wouldn't he?

_Because I've seen only scenes where he was the victim, it doesn't mean that he hadn't been the executioner in other moments._

Perhaps if he believed that Snape had been a very, very bad wizard, that when he was a Death Eater he had killed and eaten little children and old ladies, then he would be able not to care about all he knew now.

Perhaps.

~*~*~

Having slept very badly, Harry spent all day in a terrible mood and in an almost catatonic state. McGonagall had nearly lost her patience with him in her class when the table he had to transfigure into an owl had been transformed into a Diricawl instead. The Transfiguration teacher couldn't believe that he hadn't done it on purpose, because the transfiguration of an object into a Diricawl was an extremely complex and delicate spell: the Diricawls were remarkably elusive beasts.

Some hours later, moving like an automaton, Harry presented himself to Snape for the Remedial Potions class.

"Mr Potter. Your deeds are being spoken of in all corners of the Wizarding World! Perhaps having lived a long time among the Muggles, you have come to believe in the _Didus ineptus_ extinction, and now you are trying to resurrect it?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Potter. I would not delude myself believing that I could lower my vocabulary to the point of being understood by such a trite and shallow mind as yours. It's symptomatic that you had chosen the Diricawl, an abysmally incompetent bird, as its Muggle Latin name indicates: 'inept dodo'."

Harry clenched his hands tightly and glared at Snape. But just when he was about to give a snapping reply, words got stuck in his throat. Coming from the bottom of Snape's empty eyes, echoes of the last night's nightmares reverberated in his mind.

"Professor... I know how entertaining it is for you to humiliate me. And I don't want to take your toy from you. But I can't hate you any more. You can be as sarcastic as you want, and keep throwing petty insults at me, but it won't matter. Your words won't make any difference." He looked directly at Snape. " I don't hate you."

Snape narrowed his eyes, utterly bewildered. "What..."

Wonder of wonders, he had left Snape speechless. At least for a moment.

"Potter," the Professor was finally able to say, "What can have happened to cause this sudden change of heart? Why have you made such an absurd speech?"

"Because it's true. I'm sorry. Really sorry."

For a second, it seemed Snape was going to grab him, shake him, force him to explain his words, his changed feelings. But soon the professor was in control again, stiffening up and, perhaps to gain time, going to one of the shelves and taking a book down.

When he came back across the room towards Harry, no emotion showed in his expression.

"Very well. Let's see what your task will be tonight."

~*~*~

In the next Remedial Potions class, Harry found Kai at Snape's cauldron.

"Hello, Harry," said the Navajo boy.

"Hello, Kai."

Snape approached Kai and steadied the hand with which the boy was stirring the cauldron. "We'll continue this tomorrow, all right?" Very carefully, Snape rested the stirring spoon against the edge of the cauldron. "Thank you, Kai."

With a beaming smile, Kai embraced the professor. The latter stroked the boy's hair a bit awkwardly, but nonetheless affectionately.

"You're welcome!" Kai withdrew a little. "Goodbye then, sir. See you tomorrow."

And Kai cheerfully left the laboratory.

Harry stared at Snape, astonished.

"Mr Potter, would you be so kind as to pick up your jaw from my dungeons floor?"

Harry shook his head, struggling to recover from the surprise. "You... you like him!"

"Is that a difficult concept for you to grasp? Do you think that I'm not capable of human feelings? Is that so? Well, you are mistaken about me. As always."

A strange feeling took hold of Harry. No, he wasn't, he couldn't be jealous of Kai. But if it wasn't jealousy, why then, suddenly, he felt like... like he wanted to find out how would it feel to be the object of Snape's regard?

~*~*~

Not hating Snape anymore, however, didn't help him at all. The future still weighed on Harry like a colossal block of black lead. It was more and more difficult to gather the energy to wake up in the morning; at night, it was also hard to force himself to go to bed, for the nightmares haunted him without respite.

Engulfed in deep depression, Harry could only cheer himself by working out the details of his dark plan: to go to the Department of Mysteries and... pass through the veil. Gradually, the decision was being made in his mind. Nothing tied him to the Wizarding World, or to any other world that he knew. The few ties he had formed weren't strong enough to stop him any more.

  
He waited until a Sunday on which the students in the upper years had received permission to go to Hogsmeade. Then, in the evening, he went into the Forbidden Forest, taking with him some pieces of raw meat that he had asked Dobby to bring from the kitchen. He dropped the pieces of meat to the ground and, very soon, a group of Thestrals appeared through the trees to investigate the scent. Harry climbed on the back of one Thestral and, putting the invisibility cloak over himself, ordered, "Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London."

  
The Thestral took off quickly and steeply. Harry clenched his arms and legs tightly around the horse-like creature and closed his eyes. They soared out above the highest trees and crossed the grounds of Hogwarts, then passed Hogsmeade. The sun was setting, and soon the lights of the Muggle towns spread below him, mirroring the stars above. A cold wind whipped his hair and robes, but Harry didn't care. After all, this would be his last adventure.

~*~*~

The Thestral landed abruptly a few yards from the telephone box at the entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Harry stroked the Thestral's mane, said goodbye and went to the box. He entered and dialled six two four four two.

The female voice sounded inside the box. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter. I'm here to visit the Department of Mysteries."

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes. You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Okay!" Harry said loudly.

The floor of the telephone box vibrated and started to down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic. A soft golden light hit his feet and rose up, spreading through his body. The Atrium seemed completely empty, once again.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box opened. Harry put his invisibility cloak on and went out.

  
Nothing had changed since the last time he had been there, except for the absence of the statue of the Fountain of the Magical Brethren, which had been destroyed then. Harry passed through the golden gates and went straight to the lifts. He pressed one of the "down" buttons and a lift clattered into sight immediately. The golden grilles slid apart. Harry pushed the number nine button; the grilles closed noisily.

The female voice said, "Department of Mysteries", and the grilles slid open. Harry stepped out into the corridor, completely empty, and walked towards the black door. He swung the door open and entered the large, circular room, where everything was black, including the mysterious doors interspersed with branches of blue flame candles. The candles began to move sideways and the circular wall rotated.

The first door that Harry tried led to the Prophecies Room. This time, it was not what he wanted. How ironic.

The second one opened to the Brain Room. Damn luck.

Finally, the third door led to the large room, dimly lit and rectangular, in whose centre there was a great stone pit surrounded by steps, like an amphitheatre. At the centre of the pit, was the stone dais on which stood the ancient, crumbling stone archway hung with a tattered black veil.

The veil was fluttering and swaying.

Harry descended the steps and reached the bottom of the stone pit. His footsteps echoed through the room. The swaying veil attracted him like a magnet. There was some kind of music coming from the other side of the veil. The voices of the dead calling him, perhaps. Harry got closer and closer, and then stopped, almost touching the veil. It was so beautiful and fascinating, almost irresistible. He closed his eyes.

~*~*~

Even before he opened his eyes, he noticed that there was something strange. Where was he? There was something wet on his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly, and the image that started to appear didn't help him to understand what was going on: a curtain of black hair, a little... greasy. Then, the pale drained face of his once-hated Potions master. Harry tried to sit up.

"Ouch... What happened? Did they torture you? Are you hurt?" Harry asked, concerned at Snape's beaten expression.

Snape grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back into the couch. "What are you talking about?" the Professor asked, bewildered.

Harry looked around. He was lying on a couch, in a kind of office, with desks and file-cabinets. "Where am I?"

"In the Ministry of Magic, Potter."

Suddenly, he remembered. And groaned. "Then... I didn't pass through the veil."

"I fancy not, Potter. I, for my part, can assure you I haven't passed through any veil."

At least that was the old Snape - and that soothed him in a way because, an instant before, the professor's expression had worried him. As for the rest, his world seemed to have crumbled once again.

"I'm such an idiot. An incompetent, like you've said. It was so simple, but I couldn't even manage that much."

Snape made a gesture of exasperation, and didn't say a word.

"How did you know?" Harry asked. "Did you save me... again?"

Snape gave a bitter smile. "Oh, no. There's a jinx on me that prevents me from saving you, even when I'm in a perfect position to do so. At the last minute, someone comes out of the blue and saves you first, or someone sets my robes on fire: anything. The strangest events occur in order to prevent me from paying my debt."

He looked desolate. If Harry weren't so depressed, perhaps he would have laughed. Or not. In fact, he was feeling a mad desire to comfort the older wizard.

"I don't think you owe me anything."

"Your opinion doesn't matter in this case," Snape said, with his trademarked rudeness.

Harry smiled sadly. He was quite used to that. "Er... What happened, then?"

"I was here by a mere coincidence. Mr Clauschee, Kai's father, called me. He wanted some advice and information on the project they are developing. It was Mrs Clauschee who found you unconscious near the veil. We brought you to their office. She's a seer. She examined you and said that you were in perfect condition, and that you would wake up in less than an hour. Hence, they went home and left you in my care. I was waiting for you to recover in order to take you back to Hogwarts."

"So I... chickened out in the last moment. I'm such a coward."

Snape grimaced enigmatically. He seemed full of hate and pain at the same time. Then he took a deep breath, apparently trying not to lose his control. In his lowest and most threatening tone, but with a slightly tremulous note in his voice, the Potions masters said, "You are wrong. It takes more courage to stay than to leave."

And Harry remembered all Snape had been enduring as a spy. He felt deeply ashamed, and kept silent. Both stared at each other for a long instant, and the air that surrounded them seemed to vibrate, charged with repressed emotion.

Snape broke the intensity of the moment. "Do you think you can get up now?"

"I was trying to do it, but you stopped me."

"You were trying to get up too fast. Being reckless, as always."

"Well, didn't the seer say that I was in perfect condition?"

Snape only snorted.

"Oh, you don't believe in seers either," Harry said.

"If you think you can get up, do it. But do it slowly, Potter."

Snape removed the wet towel from Harry's forehead, and then offered his right hand to Harry. Grabbing it, Harry managed to sit. He was feeling great - physically. He wasn't dizzy at all. He shifted to the edge of the couch and, still holding Snape's hand, got up.

Seeing that Harry could walk steadily, Snape went to a small fountain on the wall and poured water into a glass, which he handed to the student.

Harry drank the water slowly.

"How did you get here, Potter?"

"On a Thestral."

"Well, we will have to go back on this Thestral of yours. Both of us, because I'm not going to let you go back alone, after having fainted once tonight already."

Harry shrugged. "Even together we weigh less than most people. I think he can take us both."

Snape handed the invisibility cloak to Harry. "Put this on and follow me. Keep close." He flashed a piercing glare at Harry.

They stepped into a vast hall and walked to the lifts. Snape passed through the security desk and handed back his badge. Soon, the telephone box took them back to the pavement. Appearing from behind a huge truck, the Thestral approached them.

Snape helped Harry up onto the Thestral, and then climbed onto the back of the animal as well, positioning himself behind Harry. He adjusted the invisibility cloak to cover the entire body of the younger wizard. With one hand, Snape gripped the Thestral; the other, he passed around Harry's waist, pulling the boy against himself firmly.

"Hogwarts' gates," Snape said to the Thestral, which took off immediately.

The force of the take-off threw Harry back against Snape, who had to use all his strength not to slide back and off of the Thestral. When the turbulence ceased, Harry relaxed a little. It was so disturbing and... delicious to feel the heat and volume of Snape's body at his back. Harry didn't know when the last time was that he'd been so physically close to another person. The heat radiating against his back, and that arm round his waist felt so good, he wanted to sigh with contentment. But he didn't dare, in case it made Snape pull away. As the flight stabilised, Harry leaned against the professor's body, pretending to be asleep. He rested his head on Snape's chest. Snape didn't pull back. On the contrary: after some minutes, the professor fitted his chin over Harry's shoulder, burying his nose in the unruly hair and inhaling deeply, as if wanting to absorb his scent and imprint it forever in his memory. At least it was that that Harry wanted to believe that Snape was doing.

And, thinking of that, to his shock, Harry felt his cock getting hard. How lucky he was that his invisibility cloak concealed him. He didn't want to think about what Snape would say or do if he noticed. Or about quite why being near Snape had caused such a reaction. Had his feelings towards his professor changed even more than he had realised?

When they landed near the Hogwarts gates and dismounted, the Thestral immediately took off again, flying in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Harry uncovered only his face, and looked at Snape. "Professor, please... don't tell the Headmaster about... about the Veil Room."

Snape grabbed him by the shoulders fiercely. "You gave me such a fright tonight, Potter. You will never do this again, do you understand? Never!"

Startled by Snape's vehemence, Harry nodded. Snape released him.

"Cover your face again and follow me. I'm going to _escort_ you to the Gryffindor stairs. From there, you will go directly to your dormitory," Snape commanded.

Harry nodded again, and obeyed. On the way, under the cloak, he was smiling to himself. Snape hadn't tried to humiliate him, hadn't said that he was irresponsible because he had thought of abandoning the Wizarding World to their fate. Nothing of that sort. He had only said 'you gave me such a fright'.

What a strange night it had been. He had almost tried to kill himself, and now he was discovering that maybe, just maybe, Snape cared for him.


	3. Sandpotion

**PART 3 - Sandpotion**

 

The following week, as he arrived at the dungeons for his Remedial Potions class, Harry found Kai sitting at Snape's desk, drawing on a parchment sheet that covered the desktop.

Snape invited Harry to come in and sit on a chair facing Kai.

"Potter," said Snape, standing in front of his two students, "I believe the time has come for us to move up to another stage of your learning, so that you can be more _useful_ to Hogwarts and the entire Wizarding World.

Harry regarded him with interest.

"Mr Clauschee and I have been working together for some months now," continued Snape. Kai raised his eyes to look at Harry, then at Snape. "Our project is to transform the Navajo ritual of the Pollen Path into a healing potion. This project - we call it Sandpotion - shall be kept absolutely secret. If anyone asks you about your activities here, you must inform them that you are still taking Remedial Potions."

"Right."

"Very well. The whole concept derives from the discovery, by the Navajos, of the magical power of pollen. The pollen is a component of great healing powers. The healing promoted by pollen is based on the restoration of the inner harmony of the human being. The Sand Painting Ceremony aims to enhance those healing powers to a maximum extent."

"You want to create a potion with those same powers... Seems interesting."

Kai stood up, looking from Snape to Harry and back to Snape. "I'm so happy you're going to work together! The Fire God and the Bat protect you. Together, you'll be able to defeat the Winter Thunder.

Harry gave a sardonic smile. "The Bat is him," he said, gesturing to Snape.

"Potter..."

The professor looked at him menacingly.

Kai shook his head. "No, Harry," he said. "It was the Bat that gave to you that Invisibility Cloak you used to get to the Department of Mysteries. He's your protector. And the Fire God helps professor Snape in his potions. The Fire God governs the colour black. He dresses only in black, and uses fire to make people obey him. The Fire God and the Bat went to offer the prayer stick to Winter Thunder. The Fire God threw down his fire drill with great force and so much smoke filled the house that it became completely dark. Then Winter Thunder saw that he was facing a powerful god, and decided to propose a deal."

"Kai, Voldemort isn't Winter Thunder," Harry said. "He won't make any deal with us."

"That's what professor Snape keeps saying to me. I believe him; I won't say that he's wrong. Maybe that's because there are some things in your culture that I don't understand very well. You make it sound like he's bad and he can't change that. Like he couldn't... what's the word?"

"Redeem himself?" suggested Snape.

"Yes. My people believe that redemption is possible for everyone!"

Snape and Harry exchanged meaningful looks, with the understanding of those who had already faced Evil, and knew that to hope for redemption is naïve and futile. Kai frowned, a little annoyed.

  


~*~*~

  


Gradually, it became apparent that Harry was a new person, that he had gained new heart. In the Occlumency lessons, Dumbledore was extremely satisfied with his pupil's performance. Dumbledore's gentleness didn't irritate Harry anymore. He had more serious things to worry about. One day, Dumbledore told him that he had progressed so much that the time had come for him to start studying Legilimency.

He was also training his Quidditch team with more effort and enthusiasm than ever.

At the end of one of their practices, Draco -now the Slytherin Captain - and his cohorts had approached the Gryffindors with their usual bullying. Harry pretended not to see them and kept walking, under the enraged gaze of Ron, who wanted to fight the Slytherins.

"You're a poof," Ron had said.

Harry replied with his ugliest grimace.

That night, lying on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, Harry thought about Ron's words. He knew that Ron's insult wasn't meant be taken at face value. He knew Ron was annoyed because, after that first field battle of Slytherin against Gryffindor, Hermione had become closer to Axel. Every time there was a problem, Hermione would call the Head Boy, instead of asking the help of the other Gryffindor Prefect. Axel was a good student, intelligent and polite. Ron was being bitten by the green-eyed monster. Anyway, it was true that, since the beginning of the year, Harry had been wondering if he wasn't really a poof. After all, he wasn't very interested in girls. Whenever he had a crush, it was just the way it had been with Cho: he would find the girl pretty and think how good it would be if people saw them together. But when he had to take action, he would simply lose interest.

Furthermore, for some time now he had come to realise that he liked to watch men. Of all ages! Now that Sirius was gone, he could confess to himself that he had had a crush on Sirius. He had been so handsome! Since Sirius's death, however, Harry hadn't taken interest in anyone.

Snape was arousing feelings in him that Harry didn't know how to handle and couldn't even understand. Snape's reaction after his suicidal attempt, and the flight back to Hogwarts on the Thestral... _No_, thought Harry. _Not Snape. Anyone but Snape._ Notwithstanding, his body was saying a different thing, and in an insistent way.

~*~*~

The first days, Snape, Kai and Harry had worked only on theoretical research about the components of the Navajo Healing Ceremony, in an effort to formulate a recipe. In other words, no practical work at the cauldron. It had been an interesting and even enjoyable phase, despite Harry's lack of interest in potions and potions research.

After a couple of weeks, they had listed the ingredients and the order in which they should be added - always following the original sequence of the Navajo ritual.

Except for the snakes' scales, the ingredients to be used in the Sandpotion were very different from those of any other potion that Harry had prepared so far: flower pollen, sand, cornmeal, squash, tobacco, beans, cactus, yucca and cedar pieces, ochre, bark, roots, birds' feathers, stones (gypsum, red sandstone), oak and cedar charcoal. All of them were cheap and easy to find. And even better: easy to handle and not dangerous in any way.

However, there were two problems. First: they would have to find an ideal liquid medium for the potion, since all those ingredients were quite solid. Second: how would the potion be tested? In animals? Harry didn't even know if animals got depressed? And how do you know if they were cured from depression or not? And would it be necessary to induce depression in an animal? Snape had said that there were many potions capable of inducing depression, that this wouldn't be a problem, but that animals react very differently from human beings, so those tests would be useless.

Snape had also said to Kai and Harry that they shouldn't worry about the second problem, assuring them that he would find a way to test the potion - Harry had gazed at Snape with a suspicious look then; would he dare to use _human guinea pigs_? - and that they should focus on the search for the ideal liquid base.

Kai said it wouldn't be good if the potion ended up fermenting. The whole concept was that the potion should transmit vital energies; while, in Kai's opinion, fermentation implied decomposition, or, in other words, death. Therefore, pure water wouldn't be a good medium, for it didn't prevent the decaying of the components, especially the vegetal ones.

Hence, Snape had started to test different media. Sometimes Kai and Harry did only mechanical tasks, like chopping, grinding, slicing, and squeezing ingredients. Other times, Snape would ask them to do research. Often Kai wouldn't be found in the laboratory: Snape had sent him to the library to research or to do his homework.

One day, Snape asked Harry to study a book of Navajo potions while he and Kai dealt with the ingredients and the cauldron. Harry should take some notes on possible liquid media for the potion.

At first, Harry felt a bit excluded. Since he had started to think of Snape in a different way, Harry preferred to work near the professor whenever he could. Gradually, however, some details in the book grabbed his attention, and soon he was totally absorbed in his reading.

"Hey, listen... This Mormon Tea... wouldn't it be a good base for the potion?" he asked, with a sudden spark in his eyes.

"Mormon tea?" asked Snape, intrigued.

Kai stopped stirring the cauldron and dropped the spoon. "That's it! Awesome! Why didn't I think of this before?" He approached Harry, beaming. "Ephedra!"

"Would you be as kind as to explain why you think it would be a good idea to use Ephedra?" said Snape, crossly.

"It's a tea prepared from one of two kinds of bushes that grow at the higher levels of the mountains to get away from sheep," Kai explained.

Harry frowned at the wording. "Bushes running away from sheep?"

But Kai didn't hear him. "There's the yellowish green and the purplish green. The plants should be dried in the sun and then boiled for ten, fifteen minutes to make the tea."

"This book says the tea belongs to the Ephedra family," Harry added. "And that all the animals eat it, because it's very healthy."

"This tea is one of the symbols of our culture. We believe it was made by the gods," concluded Kai.

"And how will we obtain that... _divine_ herb?" Snape asked.

"I can ask my father to order some from my uncle."

"Very well, Kai. Please do this," Snape said. "By the way, wouldn't you order the Datura too?"

Kai hid his mouth with his hand, in a childish gesture. "I forgot!"

Snape grimaced. "You don't want me to take points from my own House, do you?

"No, sir! I won't forget it again! It's just that, you know, I can't use your owls... My people see owls as death omens. And only yesterday my crow returned from his last errand."

Kai seemed very ashamed. Harry couldn't help smiling at the Slytherins.

~*~*~

Three days later, Kai's crow arrived with the ingredients. Now they had already the base, the Ephedra Tea, and they could start adding the ingredients in the order in which they appeared in the original ceremony. At each step, Snape checked the potion properties with colour indicators. At each class, they progressed to another stage.

Now Harry and Snape had progressed to a shy companionship. And when their arms, or hands, or an arm and a hand touched each other unintentionally, Harry not only didn't squirm, but also subtly tried to prolong the contact.

At night, when he wanked under the blankets in his four-poster bed, it was Snape's image in his mind.

He tried not to think about this much, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't stop thinking of Snape, and he didn't understand why.

One evening in another Remedial Potions class a few days before Christmas holidays, he was stirring the cauldron when Snape took the spoon from his hand to show him how he was supposed to move it. Snape returned the spoon to Harry and grabbed his arm from behind to correct his posture. In a mad impulse, Harry leaned his head against the professor's chest.

For an instant, perhaps too surprised to react, Snape didn't move. After that, in a perfectly controlled movement, the Potions master took the spoon from Harry's hand again and leaned it against the inside of the cauldron. Then he grasped both Harry's shoulders firmly and spun the student around to face him.

"Potter. What's going on in your foolish mind?"

Harry's expression revealed a blend of desire, despair and terror. He was totally paralysed. Snape's stare was so intense that seemed to pierce him.

"Forget it," the professor whispered, in his most dangerous tone. "It won't happen, can you understand? This fantasy in your mind, it is not real. I am a former Death Eater. Do you know the things I did when I was a Death Eater? Do you have any idea?"

Harry shook his head, quivering.

"You don't. Of course you don't. If you did, you would be far away from here. You would try to keep as far away as you could from the ugly _bat_."

"I don't..."

"Quiet, Potter. I haven't given you permission to speak. Very well. When I was a Death Eater, Potter, I _tortured_ people. I was very good at it! My Lord always called me, when he wanted to extract some information from the victim, _when he didn't want the victim dead_. What excited me the most wasn't killing the victim; it was making them suffer. Physically and psychologically. I could easily have an orgasm seeing the victim writhing, yelling, convulsing... or merely widening their eyes in sheer panic!"

Feeling sick, Harry grimaced.

Snape went on, implacable. "Do you think that this could be _overcome_? That this is something you can forget, and get on living _without_? Oh, you are so wrong. That same pleasure that I felt, I can feel it now, and there's no difference. I _like_ to inflict pain. This is called sadism, Potter. I _am_ a sadist. But you... you are the Gryffindor Golden Boy. You are the Headmaster's favourite. If I touch one hair in your head, I'll be fired. Don't delude yourself. I would love to see you screaming in pain. I would love to crush you under my boots... I would tread heavily, and preferably with a spiked boot."

Unable to look at Snape anymore, Harry lowered his eyes.

"Go away," Snape said in a low tone and a broken voice. "And remember the old saying: 'beware what you wish for, it just might come true'. Consider what I've said and decide if you really want to continue to work with me. Don't return here until you know what you want. If, for some obscure reason, you want to learn more about potions and wish to contribute to the mental health of the Wizarding World, remove these fantasies from your mind. There won't be anything between us besides a normal professor/student relationship. Do you understand?"

Harry didn't even answer the question. Snape pushed him slightly towards the door, and he let himself be prodded out. He left the laboratory without saying a word.

~*~*~

Harry ran into the nearest bathroom and threw up. Then he returned to his dormitory and felt sick and miserable all night long. During the rest of the week, he behaved like an automaton, lacking energy to do anything.

Why? Why did he have to say all that? Maybe it was true. It must be true; otherwise he wouldn't say it, would he? Anyway, the Snape that Harry had seen in Dumbledore's mind, well, he was paying for his sins, wasn't he? If he was spying for the Order now, if he worked on potions to help people, didn't all that work have a meaning either?

Harry didn't know, he didn't know anything. He knew only that his whole world had crumbled.

Ron didn't notice anything different about Harry's demeanour. As always, the Prefect was too concerned with his own problems. When classes were interrupted for the holidays, Ron went to The Burrow; Harry preferred to stay at Hogwarts. Before going to her parents' house, Hermione had tried to make him talk, but Harry had retreated into his shell. On the other hand, Kai, who had also stayed at Hogwarts, didn't want to leave him alone. The boy seemed obsessed with him, and kept insisting that Harry should receive a Healing Ceremony and that he, Kai, was entitled to be his chanter - in other words, explained Kai, to guide him through the ritual.

Christmas day went by like every year in Hogwarts: Flitwick would garnish the tree, Dumbledore would nettle everyone, Snape would make a grumpier face than ever.

  
After the excitement of the feasts and presents, Kai resumed his campaign. "Inside the mandala, you'll be able to understand what's happening with you and with all those things that are worrying you: your enemies, your allies, the place where you live - everything will be represented inside the mandala. The mandala will help you to absorb their power, and to reach a stage of spiritual harmony, which we call _hozho_. And you'll find your place in the middle of all those things. I can't explain very well what it's like, Harry, but it's more or less like that. I could tell you the holy words, but I think I should say them only during the ritual."

Harry only shook his head, incredulous.

The students who had spent the holidays with their families returned, and classes started again. When, for the umpteenth time, during breakfast at the Great Hall, Kai approached him with the same suggestion, Harry burst out, "All right! You are worse than the plague, do you know that? I'll do anything for you to leave me alone!"

Kai's triumphant smile made him fear that he had been trapped. "Great, Harry. The best we can do is to perform the ceremony on Saturday. I can make the painting on Saturday evening, and you and I will have to spend a good part of the night there."

"Er... I didn't understand a word. Where are you going to make this painting?"

"I heard about a certain Room of Requirement that..."

"Perfect. It's the perfect place, Kai. You do what you have to do there in the evening and later I'll join you. What will I have to do?"

"Nothing," Kai answered. "You just have to enter the mandala when I tell you to, stay put and focus on the... oh!"

"What is it?"

"It's just that... my people know the symbols, they are used to them, and I think that's the reason why the ritual works for them. But you don't know the symbols. I think that I'll have to explain them to you before: to tell the story of each one of them, to explain their meaning."

Harry sighed. "Are you going to work in... Snape's laboratory today?"

"I'm going to talk to Professor Snape; I'm sure he'll let me go talk to you if I explain..."

Harry didn't want to talk about anything related to Snape. He didn't even want to think about it. So he interrupted Kai. "All right, let's meet at six in the Room of Requirement. That way, you can take a look at the place."

"Okay!"

~*~*~

"The centre of the mandala is the Place of Emergence. There will always be a deep lake, a fire, the home of the gods or the main hero at the centre of the painting. Around this central point, the Sacred Powers that will be invoked are placed in the four directions: North, South, East and West. These Powers can be the Wind People, the Star People, The Cactus People, The Buffalo People... I will explain these powers to you one by one later, Harry. The subsidiary powers are placed in the Northeast, Norwest, Southeast and Southwest. Usually those are the four sacred plants: corn, beans, squash, and tobacco."

Kai had brought with him some books on Navajo mythology, full of pictures.

"Look," he continued, showing a mandala picture to Harry. "The Sacred Powers always comes in groups of four, around the mandala. The more groups of four the mandala contains, the more power is involved. And here, surrounding the picture, there's usually a protection element, like the Rainbow Guardian. There's always an opening to the East, with two guardians to protect the entrance. Those guardians can be two serpents, two bears, two insects, or other small creatures."

"And what are these mounds?" Harry asked, pointing to circles placed outside of the main area of the painting.

"These are the four sacred mountains. They are represented by circles, each one with its own colour, each one placed in its own direction."

And Kai went on explaining the symbols of his culture to Harry during the next two hours.

~*~*~

On Saturday, when Harry walked in the Room of Requirement, his jaw almost dropped. The Room had been transformed into a round shaped hogan - like an immense clay patty. Kai, with his velveteen shirt, silver and turquoise jewellery and his body ritualistically painted, was chanting in his native language and throwing pollen over a beautiful mandala painted on the floor.

There were stone benches scattered through the hogan. Harry sat on one of them and watched for some minutes, enthralled. The painting was made with red, blue, yellow, black and white sand. Some bark receptacles spread around the painting hinted that it was from there that Kai had taken the coloured sand. There was also a wooden weaving-batten with some coloured sand particles sprinkled onto the surface. Probably Kai had used it to give shape to the images.

Kai approached Harry and held his hand, leading him in a circle around the mandala and explaining each figure. Afterwards, they entered into the centre of the mandala and Kai helped Harry to sit in the right position. Chanting, Kai moistened his palms with herb medicine and began to press them to various parts of Harry's body; then he pressed the corresponding parts of his own body. At the same time, Kai voiced the sound symbolism associated with the chant.

Gradually, the mandala images imprinted themselves on Harry's mind, and he could see them even if he closed his eyes. Suddenly, those symbols began to make sense to him, relating to his life. For him, the four mountains symbolised the four Houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. In the Power figures - Cloud People, Star People, Thunder People, Cyclops People - Harry didn't identify exactly persons, but powers. Some of them he already knew and dominated, while others were still unknown to him. In the Star People, for instance, he perceived a sexual motif. The Thunder People, on the other hand, reminded him of all the powers that he couldn't control yet. Because of its lightning shape, it also reminded him of his scar.

Each one of those figures began to imprint in his body, mind and soul. He was not only acquiring a new sense, but also having all the others enhanced. And, above all, Harry was beginning to feel integrated.

When the ceremony ended, Kai led him outside the mandala and handed him a canteen. Harry swayed. Completely dizzy, he tried to drink the water to see if he could feel the ground under his feet, if he could regain contact with reality - or, at least, with reality as he knew it. But the water... was that water? Even the water didn't taste the same.

Kai watched him with a worried expression, and made him sit on one bench. "Harry? Are you okay? Talk to me!"

"Uh... The castle... ah. Nothing makes sense anymore, Kai. The words don't make sense anymore. I want to laugh, to yell, or to howl!

"But Harry, you're talking to me, and your words make sense. Take it easy. Don't panic. Now I need to erase the painting. It's part of the ritual. Don't move. I'll come back in a minute."

As in a dream, Harry heard Kai chanting, and saw him gathering the sands upon a buckskin. Then Kai went out. Harry knew that Kai would have to walk east, then south, then west and north scattering the sands to all the directions from whence they came.

Alone, Harry tried to control his feelings and sensations. Everything was too intense: the images, the scents, the noises, the textures. And it felt like a million people were living inside him.

A few minutes later, Kai returned bringing professor Snape with him. Both approached Harry with a concerned look. Kai sat beside Harry and tried to embrace him, but Harry squirmed and retreated.

"I'm s-sorry. It's just that... everything seems... too much."

"Potter," Snape spoke low, "describe your feelings."

"All my senses seem to be heightened, enhanced to the point of madness. I feel like I'm going to explode. But it's not just that. It's like... the entire castle... is inside my body. I feel each piece of it, each wall, each particle of each wall..."

Kai got up suddenly. "Now the castle is like a hogan to him!"

The boy's sharp voice made Harry shudder.

"Kai," Snape said, "speak low and don't move too fast, otherwise you will upset him. That's... fantastic. Incredible. It remains to be known how long will it last."

Harry made a horrible grimace. "Please, make it stop. I can't take it much longer!"

"Easy, Potter. If it doesn't stop, soon you'll get used to it. I suspect it's like when you change your glasses to one with a higher magnification: everything seems too big, or too distinct... or a level terrain seems sloped, if you have astigmatism. In one or two days, you'll get used to it. However, your five senses are undergoing a similar phenomenon. It must be an unbearable torture."

Kai came near to Snape and held his hand. "What can we do to help him?"

"I think it's advisable that both of you sleep here tonight. It's midnight. I'm going to give him a Sleeping Potion. You stay here, just in case he wakes up in the middle of the night in panic or if he needs something. If you have any problems, call me."

Snape had barely finished speaking when a flagon appeared in his hands.

"This Room is wicked!" Kai exclaimed.

Snape opened the flagon, approached Harry and handed it to him. "Drink it all. It will make you sleep for eight hours. When you wake up, you should be feeling better. I will be here."

~*~*~

And he was. When Harry opened his eyes, he saw an almost exact reproduction of his Gryffindor dormitory as cloned by the Room of Requirement, and the Head of Slytherin at the edge of his bed.

The Castle didn't disturb him as intensely as before. But it was there, present, palpable, inside him.

Harry sat up, slowly. Kai was still sleeping, in a bed some feet away from him. He looked at the Potions master.

"Potter? Are you feeling better?"

"It's weird. It's still here. But it's not so terrible anymore."

"You are getting familiarised to the sensation. Nonetheless, I'm going to ask the Headmaster to excuse you from your classes today. You must rest. And feed yourself properly."

Now that was getting funny: Snape giving him advice, as if he were Head of his House. No. As if he were his... mother. Harry had never had someone who treated him that way. Except for Molly, of course.

Snape. That was Snape. Suddenly, everything fitted into place. It wasn't only the Castle that lived inside Harry: the people themselves inhabited him; there were connections between them, and all of them were connected to Harry. And Snape, Snape was, had always been his protector. What a fool he was, that he had not realised that since the beginning!

"What is it, Potter? Are you unwell?"

"Oh. I'm sorry... It's just that... I'm not used to this yet. You..."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Please... I want to work with you again. On the Sandpotion."

"This is not the proper time to discuss this issue. You are under stress. Come to my laboratory next Tuesday, at six o'clock."

Snape went near to Kai's bed and shook the boy gently by his shoulders.

Kai opened his eyes and made a grimace. "Uh?"

"Breakfast time, slothful brat. Potter is excused from his classes today, but you are not. I don't think it's advisable for Potter to have his breakfast in the Great Hall. Too much commotion around there. So brush your teeth and take your breakfast here. After that, you should go to your... Transfigurations class? Yes, your first class is Transfigurations today. And Potter... will take a walk outdoors. Strange as it might be, it's not cold today. It's a nice sunny day and the birds are chirping."

Snape arched an eyebrow and turned around to leave. Harry couldn't help laughing. The world was really getting weirder and weirder since he had gone in and out of that Navajo mandala.

~*~*~

Sitting at a breakfast table in the Room of Requirement, Kai and Harry gobbled the muffins and the biscuits.

"Yay, I love cookies," Kai exclaimed.

"You mean biscuits," said Harry.

"Whatever. In American, biscuits are a different thing. Like scones, you know. My housemates are always correcting me. 'Kai, it's fringe, not bangs', 'Kai, it's jumper, not sweater'. Ugh. I'm so tired of this."

"Snape corrects you too?"

"Hm, I don't think he minds my American English. He'd rather correct my mistakes in Potions."

"Is Snape always like that with the Slytherins? Paternal?" Harry asked, pouring some tea into his cup.

"Oh no! He pretends to be cold and aloof. But whenever we need him, he's there to help us."

"Well, then it's not very different... Except that he doesn't humiliate you in class, doesn't take points and doesn't bully you."

"Of course not! He's the Head of Slytherin, and he has to defend us. Well, sometimes he gets mad at us. Then things get pretty ugly. But it doesn't happen very often."

Harry sighed and sipped his tea.

"You two have strong personalities," said Kai, observing the schoolmate. "But the Bat and the Fire God protect you, then you'll end up getting along well."

"Do you really think so?"

Kai, who had just stuffed an entire muffin in his mouth, nodded.

~*~*~

Wandering near Hagrid's hut, Harry tried to sort his thoughts. He felt better outside the castle. That feeling of being linked to every molecule of the castle and to every cell of its inhabitants was not so strong there.

So, that was Dumbledore's secret. (Or _one_ of his secrets.)

But Harry didn't want to think of Dumbledore now. He wanted to understand his own feelings for Snape. Or rather... no, he didn't need to understand that. He already knew. He knew that he had fallen for Snape. He couldn't run from the truth anymore. And he knew that Snape wasn't, by any means, indifferent to him. With that new awareness, which he acquired inside the mandala, everything was much clearer. The fact was that Snape had always protected him, even when he hated him. And now it was evident: perhaps Snape still hated him, but somehow he desired him too. Every touch, every reaction from the Potions master showed that. And the professor's extreme reaction when he had made that speech about being a sadist, well, that must have been a kind of defence against him, against those feelings.

Why would Snape want to protect himself from Harry was a mystery that Harry couldn't begin to fathom. Harry didn't have any experience in romantic or sexual subjects, and the enhancement of his perceptions didn't solve this problem. His intuition told him that Snape desired him too, but he couldn't understand the reasons behind Snape's behaviour.

Harry laughed at himself. What was he thinking? Of course Snape would want to defend himself from those feelings. There were a gazillion motives for that. For starters, if he had any involvement with a student, he would get in trouble. Big trouble. So... did that mean that Snape had lied to turn him away?

There was no doubt that Snape was a sadist. Probably he hadn't lied when he had spoken about his past as a Death Eater. However, the guilt, the inescapable guilt was also there, all the time. Otherwise, why had he chosen to become a spy, to suffer in Voldemort's hands? For hate of Voldemort, or for a strange and reluctant love for the Light forces? Perhaps that too, but a sense of debt and guilt seemed to fit Snape's personality best.

Ultimately, Harry didn't understand all of Snape's motives. But he wanted to find out. And he wanted to be near Snape.

~*~*~

At lunchtime, Harry decided to go back to the castle. He didn't want to have lunch with everyone in the Great Hall, but he wanted to talk with Hermione. As he thought about that, he knew instantly where she was: in the Astronomy Tower. And... she was not alone.

Harry's mind wasn't a Marauder's Map, in which he could identify every person in every place. What he saw didn't depend on his will, but on a special bond that he had with every person. He knew that there was someone with Hermione, and someone that wasn't close to him. But it seemed a nice, trustworthy person that really liked Hermione.

What a funny game: it wasn't difficult to decipher the charade now. Probably Hermione was with Axel.

Harry wouldn't go there. He didn't want to intrude. He would talk to Hermione after classes.

~*~*~

"Harry! That's wonderful!" exclaimed Hermione, when Harry finished telling her the entire mandala episode, omitting the references to Snape. "That Navajo ritual, I would never imagine that it could have such a strong effect."

"I guess nobody would. Kai himself said he's never seen a reaction like mine. You know how it is: with me, everything has to be different..."

"So you think Dumbledore has this same power that you've acquired? A close bond to Hogwarts castle?"

"I'm sure of it. I can feel people's energies. And I feel that Dumbledore can feel them too."

"Will you tell him that now you have this power?"

"He already knows, Hermione. He already knows."

~*~*~

On Tuesday evening, Snape received him in his laboratory, as agreed, and promptly asked, "Have you pondered what I said to you one month ago? What's your decision?"

"I accept your conditions. I would like to contribute to this potion."

"Very well, Mr Potter. Then brace yourself. You'll have to listen to an extensive report of everything I have done in all the days when you weren't here."

~*~*~

They resumed their work together, almost always in silence. Harry would do his best not to get too close to his teacher. With all that time spent together and his new perception of everything that surrounded him, more and more Harry was capable of reading Snape's thoughts, of knowing, always, which ingredient or utensil the professor needed at a given moment, or whether it was time to lower or raise the heat. Some weeks later, they were working together in perfect synchrony.

Not that it was easy for Harry to resist the closeness with the object of his desires. Sometimes he got distracted and kept staring at the professor, at his skilful gestures, at his focused manners. And sometimes he would catch Snape staring at him with piercing eyes. When their eyes met, oh, it was so hard. Harry didn't even try to conceal how much it affected him.

The potion was reaching the final stage. It was time to do tests and to perform the necessary corrections. Snape had never told Harry who his guinea pigs were. In each class, the teacher would say - "we need to diminish the amount of gypsum, and add more tobacco". Or: "we still haven't attained the ideal point. Perhaps there are two or more ingredients in conflict. Let's make samples with different combinations." And Harry asked himself who had tasted all those samples.

~*~*~

Harry's new powers also helped him in his studies. Hermione noticed that he was more attentive to everything going on around him. The castle seemed to _tell_ him the answers all the time - he could feel it through the air, the damp, the ground. It was rather weird, but Harry would not complain about that!

On that Saturday, Harry finished his homework early in the afternoon and, in order to relax, decided to take his Firebolt and fly outdoors.

The wind was cold and biting, but Harry didn't care. He began to make loops, rolls, risky curves, and vertiginous dives. He almost reached the Forbidden Forest, but he withdrew and turned to circle the lake. He flew around the castle towers, criss-crossing. When he circled the Astronomy Tower, he glimpsed two other brooms flying over the Quidditch pitch. Curious, he decided to get nearer.

The two flyers fought over a ball. Judging by their movements, it wasn't the Snitch. It must be a mere Quaffle. He couldn't see them yet, but... he felt. He felt clearly that one of the flyers was Snape. Only when he was at less than 200 feet away he could discern the other flyer: Montague. The boy who should now be in his seventh year, but who had been sent on a trip nobody knows where through the pipes, by Fred and George, and who had suffered serious brain damage. Sometimes Harry met him roaming through the halls, looking lost. People said that Snape and Madame Pomfrey were doing their best to help him to recover, so that he would be up to attending classes in the second term - as a sixth-year, to take up from where he had stopped. In the same year as Harry.

Seeing him approaching, Snape and Montague stopped fighting for the Quaffle and looked in his direction.

"Do you remember Potter, Montague?"

"Harry Potter! Who wouldn't remember Harry Potter?"

Harry grimaced. "Hello, Montague. It seems you're in shape!"

"Wanna test me? Professor, would you throw the Snitch for us?

Snape looked at Harry, who nodded firmly at him. Then he produced a Snitch from his pocket and set it loose. Harry raced after it, and Montague zoomed like a jet behind him. Snape went down to sit in the stands.

The former Slytherin Captain and the current Gryffindor Captain duelled for more than twenty minutes until Montague tried to shift Harry with his body and lost his balance, allowing the Gryffindor to bypass him and catch the Snitch.

But Montague didn't seem disappointed. On the contrary.

"Oh, but I almost caught you. You know, I've never been a Seeker, I am a Chaser. I would like to see you playing with a Quaffle with me." Montague turned to Snape. "Could Potter come and practice with us more often?"

Harry felt moved. That naïve, enthusiastic boy wasn't the same Montague that he had known - a real bulldog. He felt guilty. Perhaps if he, Ron and Hermione had reported immediately what had happened to the boy, it would have been possible to heal him? No one would ever know. They had been too selfish to think of their schoolmate. They had never thought of him as a schoolmate, but as a _Slytherin_. And Slytherins weren't schoolmates. Now Harry thought differently.

During the long silence in which these thoughts crossed Harry's mind, Snape observed him. "Potter has many obligations. Perhaps he..."

"Sure! I'll come. I mean, if the professor agrees," Harry added hastily.

In the look that Snape gave him at that moment, there was something absolutely new to Harry: thankfulness.

~*~*~

"But I saw you practising with the former Slytherin Captain!" yelled Ron.

"And so what?" Harry shrugged. "He's not playing this term."

"But they say he'll be back as soon as he recovers."

"Ron, this guy has failed his year because of a prank of your brothers'! He has failed his year and lost his memory. He has lost virtually everything! Snape told me..."

"Ah-hah! 'Snape told me'. That's all I hear now, Snape this, Snape that. Snape's still a greasy git, a..."

"Ron, Snape is not the subject now."

"But the problem is just that, you only get along with Slytherins now. Snape, Malfoy..."

"What does Malfoy have to do with this?"

"He's always on your neck, but you never fight him. You're always protecting him."

"Protecting Malfoy? Are you mad? I'm talking about Montague, Ron. Snape and Pomfrey practically had to teach him how to speak and walk again. Now he's almost back to normal, but he's not the same person!"

"Great, because he was a piece of shit. So my brothers did a great favour to the Wizarding World," said Ron, stomping his foot once.

Harry widened his eyes. "Ron, what are you saying? Do you know who thinks like this? Voldemort's followers. The Death Eaters!

"Really? I don't know. You tell me, since now you only hang around with their kind."

"Go fuck yourself, okay?"

~*~*~

"Hermione, are you and Axel... dating?" asked Harry, a bit awkwardly.

Hermione gave him a flashing smile. Harry had never found her so beautiful.

"Sshhh. Yes, we are, but it's a secret. We don't want people bothering us. You know how it is, he's a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor."

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so happy for you! Axel is a nice guy. And I'm sick and tired of this feud with Slytherin. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Ron's not speaking to me again. He insists that now I only talk with Slytherins."

"You?"

"Yeah. You know how stubborn Ron can be. He has seen me practising Quidditch with Montague."

"Really, Harry? That's very kind of you. I mean, helping Montague to recover."

"But Ron doesn't understand that."

"Ron is a by-product of this rotten system. Everything is wrong, Harry. We shouldn't be sorted by Houses; this only fosters animosity between us. We should be united to fight against Voldemort, and not be divided in any way. And the Slytherins are marginalised. Not everybody in Slytherin supports Voldemort. As a matter of fact, I think that only a minority has some connection with the Death Eaters. But when we marginalise them, we push them towards the Death Eaters!"

"It's true, Hermione. It's all wrong."

~*~*~

That same night, while thinking about Montague and Ron, Harry made a very serious decision: the next weekend, he would pay a call to Fred and George's apartment in Hogsmeade.

~*~*~

The twins greeted Harry enthusiastically, and took him to their laboratory to show him their new creations.

"Look, Harry, this is the Post-Modernist Babbling Mix. The guy eats a bit of this mash and he begins to speak like an academic, an art critic, a decadent poseur, or any of those pretentious geeks out there. It's very useful when you want to impress those idiots who don't respect you if you don't use their jargon," explained George. "Not that we, personally, would bother with them."

Harry looked at everything, fascinated. They were drinking Firewhisky and no one's glass was ever empty. By his third glass, Harry was drunk enough to gather the courage to say, "Boys, I want to have a serious talk with you."

"Are you going to get married?" Fred joked.

"No, mates. It's serious. It's about Montague."

"That bulldog that we sent for a walk through the pipes? What's with him?" asked Fred.

"Would you get mad if I told Snape that it was you, and what you did?"

"What would you do that for?" George asked, puzzled.

"Montague's still not well. Perhaps there's a way to help him to recover."

"Ouch. Harry the guardian angel." Fred scowled. "That git was a pile of shit! Why do you want to help him?"

"Listen, I didn't come here to be criticised."

"Okay, Harry-kins. We love you and don't wanna fight with you." Fred kissed Harry's cheeks. "He can tell, can't he, George?"

"We have left Hogwarts, they can do nothing against us. And if Snape decides to come here to bully us, we have a trump card against him," declared George, sticking up his chin.

"A trump card?" asked Harry.

"Should we tell him or not?" George asked Fred.

"Tell him, that way we can send our message to Snape immediately. Then he will know that it's pointless to try to do anything funny."

"I don't understand a word you're saying," said Harry, concerned.

"Harry-kins," said Fred, "the fact is that our most illustrious Professor Snape frequents a most illustrious whore who lives in the house next door."

"What?"

"Yeah, Harry-kins, you've heard well," said George. "He comes here every Friday night. Fred and I were testing our Speculor, an implement that we are perfecting and that we hope will enable us to see through walls, and we have found out some interesting things. We've discovered that our neighbour has powerful wards on a back room, but the waiting room, in the front of the house, is unprotected. That way, we are able to see the people waiting for their turn. After only a few weeks, we have already huge dossiers about many influential people!"

"But are you sure that it was Snape?"

"That greasy hair and that humongous nose are unmistakable, Harry-kins. And it's infallible: every Friday night he comes. Always at the same time: ten o'clock. And he leaves one hour later. He Apparates right in the waiting room. Probably he's sure that nobody is seeing him! Oh, and now and then he brings a flagon to the bloke. Fred and I are sure the bloke needs some kind of aphrodisiac to shag Snape," said George, and he and Fred burst out in laughter.

~*~*~

Harry left the twins' laboratory a little dizzy, and not because of the Firewhisky. He pretended to be going back to Hogwarts but, in an insane move, went to the house of the twins' neighbour instead.

  
He wouldn't mind if the twins saw him. If they did, they wouldn't understand anything. Probably they would include him in their dossiers, but they wouldn't do anything about it immediately.

It was still early, approaching six o'clock. Perhaps the prostitute hadn't begun working yet.

Harry braced himself and wielded the heavy bronze knocker on the massive oak front door. He didn't need to wait for long. A man with a scarred face, sunken eyes and grey hair opened the door.

"What... Holy Merlin! Aren't you Harry Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I am."

"Nice to meet you! My name is Pier. Come in!" Pier led him through the waiting room to an ample suite, with a king-size bed. It was a simple room, but very neat and organised, with various ambiences. There was even a kitchen area, with a dinner table. Pier pointed him a comfortable armchair. "Sit down! I don't live here, you know. I've just arrived. My first client is due in an hour." Pier sat on a twin armchair, facing Harry's. "Are you... per chance... interested in... my services?"

"I'm... er... Yes, I am."

"Would you have... any special requirements?"

"Of what kind?"

"Oh." Pier made a vague gesture. "Some of my clients are fond of bondage, BDSM, spanking, or fetishes, you know. Others prefer that I impersonate someone else..."

Harry had a sudden inspiration. "With the Polyjuice Potion?"

"Oh, no, that's very rare. Only one of my clients asks me to use this potion, and he himself supplies me with the product."

Oh, Merlin. "Really? How interesting. Does he bring the potion all the times he comes here?"

"No, he gives me a flagon and, when it's finished, he brings another. He's given me a set of clothes to go with the look." Pier got up, opened a drawer in a desk and produced a green flagon, showing it to Harry.

"Who does the potion make you look like?"

"I don't know. That client always casts a Memory Charm on me before leaving. Most of my clients demand that. Of course, if you'd like me to use the Polyjuice Potion for you, I can be whoever you want me to be."

"Is it very expensive?" Harry asked.

"If you bring the potion, it's the normal price: twenty galleons per hour."

"And... when it's over... would you let me cast a Memory Charm on you?"

"Oh, sure." The prostitute shrugged.

"Look... Do you think the guy who gave you this potion... will he notice if you use a dose to be with me?"

"What? That's highly irregular. It wouldn't be ethical on my part."

"And if I pay you... forty galleons? For a session of half an hour?" asked Harry, determined.

"But... why do you want to use a potion if you don't even know what person it will transform me in? That's very weird."

"Yeah, I know. I've always imagined how it would be to shag a stranger. Someone I had never met before. "

The prostitute stared at him suspiciously for a long time. Finally, he shrugged. "My client will get mad, but I can tell him that I've dropped a little of the potion on the floor, inadvertently..."

"Have you got time now?" asked Harry, anxious.

Pier looked at his watch. "The potion lasts one hour. You'll have to pay for the whole hour. And we have to start immediately. Usually I give myself at least five minutes of break between clients, but I can make an exception for Harry Potter."

Harry asked himself if the bloke used some potion to have that recycling capacity. "I don't need a whole hour with you. You'll have a lot of time to rest."

Pier shrugged again. "I aim to please my clients!"

He opened the same drawer again and produced a glass. He took the flagon, opened it, poured the right dose and swallowed it in one gulp.

Slowly, his grey hair began to blacken. He started to shrink considerably. His skin became rosier, smooth. Now he was exactly Harry's size and... a scar began to form on his forehead. Unruly hair covered his head.

Harry widened his eyes. It was like looking at himself in a mirror, only without the glasses and with different clothes.


	4. Viewed up Close, Nobody Is Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter comes from a song by Caetano Veloso.

**PART 4 - Viewed up Close, Nobody Is Normal**

 

Pier opens the door to me as always, already in character and prepared. If anyone is different tonight, it's me. I need to release the tension; it's becoming unbearable. Pier is my last hope of an outlet. It's terrible having to depend on such a pantomime. But it's this or drowning myself in alcohol and drugs. Or St Mungo's.

I embrace him. Pier, no, Potter, wraps his arms around me. I push him into bed, with restrained violence. I take off his glasses, laying them on the bedside table. I lie on top of him, crushing him under my weight, and take his lips in a desperate kiss. He writhes under me. The iridescent green of the bedspreads on which we lie emphasises his emerald eyes. Ah. I tear open his robes, pull off his shoes, socks, briefs. Quickly, I get rid of my own clothes. He stares at me in awe. Harry. So young, so fragile, so inexperienced. I fling myself on him again. Our bodies join as one, now with no clothes hindering the touch of our skin. I bite his earlobe. He embraces me fiercely and writhes more insistently. He... moans. This is new. So tender, so responsive? His eagerness excites me even more. I probe his lips with my tongue, teasing him. His lips open to me, and I capture them with mine. Our tongues meet and twist together, so hot, so wet. He plunges his hands into my hair. He was always amenable, but... he has never reciprocated with such longing. I whisper in his ear, "Harry... You are driving me insane. I don't know what to do any more when I am near you."

He gazes at me with those impossibly twinkling green eyes. I keep murmuring in his ear, "And you... you seem to desire me too." I stroke his face with my knuckles while I speak. "That's the reason why it is so hard for me to restrain myself. But... it's impossible, isn't it? You can't want me. You said you didn't hate me any more, but that doesn't mean that... I mean, you will always despise me, won't you?"

He shakes his head, as if denying. But I know the truth.

I continue speaking low, interspersing my words with kisses, soft bites and all kinds of caresses.

"I don't want to lose you. You are one of the few good things in my life. I also have my potions, my dungeons, and my Slytherins. But they have been part of my life for fifteen years, now they are routine. You have come to disturb my routine, but not in a bad way. It's strange how, even when I hated you, I wanted to protect you. Of course, I'm in debt to you, but that was not the reason why I protected you. You were a child, and still are. I know that you are becoming a powerful wizard... perhaps even now you are more powerful than myself. However, emotionally, you are a child. It's so wrong to want you the way I do."

"No!" he says very low, but with a strength that makes me shiver to the bones.

I stare at him, astonished. He seems frightened, but it's as if something inside him wants to break free. Something strange is happening. I tense up. Then I hear him saying, "I'm not a child any more. I know what I want, and I can defend myself. It's not wrong. It isn't!"

Then it hits me like a lightning. I sit up abruptly and look for my clothes. I have never felt so naked. I have never been so humiliated. Not even by his father, or his godfather. Gradually, another emotion takes over, and I grasp it with all my might, because it's my lifeline: fury.

He is sitting on the bed; I pull him violently by the arm and push him against the opposite wall. "You, insidious brat, what have you done to Pier? What are you scheming here? Did you want to debase me, to humiliate me? Did you want to see me make a fool of myself? What do you gain by this? Tell me!"

He gasps. He is terrified. "It's n-nothing like that," he says, with all his falsehood.

"What is it, then? Speak up!"

He throws himself in my arms, drained, as if in a last effort. For an instant, I remain paralysed, and he speaks. "Everything you've said you feel for me... I feel for you too. There's no reason to be ashamed. I don't want to humiliate you. I just want to be with you. If you like, you can cast a Memory Charm on me, like you always do with Pier. Please. I'd like to remember, because... you've said everything that I've always wanted to hear from you. It was perfect. But I don't want to lose you because you feel humiliated. And I don't want to upset you."

My treacherous arms wrap around him, fiercely. I still have the strength to choke, in time, a convulsive sound rising up from my throat.

Severus Snape, think. With your brain.

It is not an easy task. My hands roam up and down his back. Now the boy relaxes in my arms and buries his head under my chin.

Think.

What do I have to lose now? He says that this is what he wants. And why shouldn't I believe him, if he is willing to subject himself to a Memory Charm? He is to blame. He has created this impossible situation. I have already suffered the greatest possible humiliation. In any case, the Memory Charm is my only salvation. Why not to... fulfil his wishes?

How hypocritical of you, Snape. His wishes. As if you hadn't anything to do with them. He is your student.

Oh, but he didn't come here as a student. I repeat: it was he who created this absurd situation.

"Please enlighten me: what have you done to Pier?"

"I convinced him to go home and leave me here. Nothing else. I gave him something as a guarantee that I wouldn't steal anything from his house, you know. And I paid for the whole night."

Salazar! He spent a fortune to... I push him by the shoulders so that I can catch his eye.

"Have you gone insane? How did you find out... about this?"

"I can't tell you yet," he answers, and with a cynical smile!

"And when will you _be able_ to tell me?" I say between gritted teeth.

"It depends on... your behaviour."

Ah-hah, that's a nice one. Sometimes I think that Filch is right: the teachers still should have permission to use the whip. Teachers. Best not to think of it on these terms, in an occasion like that: my student, who has paid a fortune to sleep with me, stands naked before me, and I, Severus Snape, tempted to _humour_ him.

"Dumbledore will send an army to search for you, when he discovers that you aren't sleeping in your bed tonight, won't he?

"I told Ron that... I'd be with someone in Hogsmeade all night long."

"Do you believe that Dumbledore will be satisfied with that explanation?"

"I think so. I think he already knows everything, deep inside."

I must have become paler than usual. Paler than a corpse.

"What do you mean by 'everything'?"

"Everything that happens in the world."

Ha. I have this same impression. He is not joking, and I am not either, but this is not the time to think about that. "Potter, if I'm going to erase your memory in the end, why not to erase it now, so that we can go back to Hogwarts immediately?"

"No. I haven't done all this just to return in the same state as before."

A sardonic smile would have to creep onto my lips at that, even against my wishes. "You are determined not to return to Hogwarts as a virgin, is that it?"

He blushes, and doesn't say a word. Damn. That was a tactical error on my part. He is withdrawing more and more into his shell, and I am not getting the answers that I want. Well, after all, why would I want to know what goes on in the mind of a sixteen-year-old?

I insist. "You will not remember. What is the difference?"

He stares me with an intense glow in his eyes. "_You_ will."

He is paying a fortune to give himself... to me. And he doesn't want anything in turn. I am not used to receiving such presents. It is hard not to feel touched by that. I cling to him as if I am a castaway and he is the only solid rock in sight, and I take him back to bed.

For the first time, I look at him, naked, knowing that he is... Harry. I gaze at him for a long time, savouring that body that I already know, but that seems entirely new. He blushes again.

"It's strange to think," he says, "that you had already seen me... like this."

"No. It wasn't you. It was like a... puppet. A sad, lifeless puppet." He wouldn't blush like you do. He wouldn't wiggle at each caress made to him. He wouldn't writhe as if longing for my body next his. He wouldn't gaze at me with this look of pure desire.

I can talk with him freely, as if we could really understand each other, as if we had a relationship. I can even be romantic or dramatic. He won't remember anything afterwards. It makes me feel more at ease. It is sad, however, because it is not real. Even now, it is not real.

Since he is giving himself to me as a gift, I want to pay him back in kind. I want - I wouldn't say that I want to make this night unforgettable for him, because this possibility doesn't exist, but... I want to give him what he wants. To fulfil any of his wishes. To be his slave.

His heart beats hastily.

"Potter..."

"Call me Harry. Please."

"Harry, I will do only what you want me to. If you change your mind, at any moment, let me know, and I will stop."

He smiles, noticeably more tranquil. And he teases, "At _any_ moment?"

Clearly, he doesn't even know what he is playing with. He doesn't know _anything_. That proves how brave he is. Or how reckless he is. Anyway, I have to prove myself worthy of his gift. "At any moment. Do not forget it. Here, tonight, you are the one calling the shots."

"But... I don't know what to do."

"Tell me what you want. It's a good beginning."

"Oh. I want... a kiss."

If I weren't already as erect and hard as I can be, I would have become so at that moment, just from hearing the innocence, the candour in his voice. Obediently, I lower my head and slightly, very slightly, brush my lips against his. I feel his sweet breath on my face before our lips meet. When I lick his lips, he closes his eyes and searches for my tongue with his, as if eager to taste me. He moans. I am melting._ Our_ bodies are melting together, all the way down, skin to skin, and Harry holds me fiercely, as if afraid to lose himself in the sensations.

I explore his mouth leisurely and thoroughly, sucking, teasing him to suck me too. Inexperienced, he reciprocates the kiss with enthusiasm and, either by mimicking me or giving rein to his own inspiration, he learns very fast.

I'm losing my breath. I tear my lips from his for an instant. His hands frame my face. I close my eyes and feel his warmth. He's so hot, and I am too.

I have never slept with someone so affectionate and so receptive to my caresses. Also I have never slept with someone so inexperienced, but... this is part of the magic of the night.

I open my eyes and observe him. He is so beautiful. Surely, I had seen his body many times before; the firm and smooth skin, the impetuous cock rising from the dark bush of his pubic hair. But now, now it is really _him_, and that makes an enormous difference. I cannot believe that he is here... to be mine.

He drapes... oh... one leg over mine, making me gasp. My hands roam his body, exploring every piece of skin. He rocks his hips against mine, almost unconsciously.

I sit straddling him. Delicately, I massage his neck and shoulders, his chest, his stomach. I circle his navel with my thumb, then his nipples, one at a time. He stares at me, holding his breath. Slowly, very slowly, I lower my head. I rub his cock with my nose, inhaling his musky scent. Always teasing, I lick his inner thighs, nuzzle his pubic hair, cup his balls in my hands and squeeze them lightly. I lift my head to see his expression. He gazes at me, looking mesmerised, totally focused on what I am doing. Lowering my head again, I finally touch the tip of his cock with my tongue. He involuntarily bucks his hips into me. I lick from the base upwards in broad slow strokes. I savour each piece of smooth skin, moving my tongue from one side to the other. When my tongue reaches the ridge of his head, I retreat back to the base and retrace my path. My licking changes to kissing, my kissing to sucking. Finally, I cover his tip with my lips. Harry moans his pleasure loudly. I take a breath and slowly descend onto him, opening my throat to receive its length. Then I move up, sucking still as I draw away.

Again and again, I repeat the action, gradually increasing the rhythm. He writhes beneath me, and I feel him throbbing.

"Severus... I'm going to..."

I know, Harry. Soon, I feel him spasm, every muscle in his body tensing for an unending instant, until he fills my mouth with his hot semen, his entire body pulsating wildly.

I lie on top of him, my cock still hard. He gazes at me as if worshipping me. I adjust his legs so that my cock can slide between his thighs. I kiss him, first tenderly, then fiercely, while I thrust against him, until my own seed spreads over his legs.

~*~*~

Suddenly, he looks at me with a strange smile. Back to reality, I see what I am doing: mixing his semen with mine, absently, with my finger, over his belly. It's a gesture so weirdly intimate and childish, that I could never imagine myself doing it. He smiles at me with... tenderness.

"You were so focused. Like when you stir a potion."

"Ha. It would be a very dangerous potion, for us both, if someone took hold of it. I shiver at the mere idea." I pronounce a cleaning spell. "We can start all over again," I tell him. "What do you want now?"

"Oh, wow. Eager, are we? It's me who's sixteen here, not you!"

"Really? One might wonder," I say, just to humiliate him.

Truth be told, I don't believe I can have another erection so soon. However, if I begin now, I would be able to torture him longer.

"And so, what will it be?" I insist.

"I... I want... everything."

I smirk. "Demanding, are we?"

I start to kiss him slowly, biting his lower lip, then the upper one, teasing him with my tongue, not letting him catch hold of it. At the same time, I insinuate my hand between his thighs, and start to play with his tiny entrance. I feel him tense at the moment that I touch him there, but I am only rubbing him, circling him. I focus my main energies on the kiss.

When I interrupt the kiss, I keep massaging his perineum. Harry is not so tense any more. His eyes begin to get cloudy. "Tell me if that's what you really want," I whisper in his ear.

"Yes, that's what I want." He pretends to be sure, but his body trembles.

"Wait a minute."

I go to the chair where I had left my robe and take out the lube from one of its pockets. He widens his eyes. Returning to his side, I cover my fingers with the product. I touch his perineum area carefully, massaging it again. He tenses anew.

"Don't forget that you are the one who gives orders here. Do you want me to stop?"

He gathers all his courage once again, almost choking. "No!"

I know his body. It is true that he reacts very differently from Pier, but knowing him intimately has some benefits. I keep circling his entrance, delicately, bringing him new sensations, stimulating him. When, I finally introduce the first finger, I feel him shudder. His flesh, hot and moist, closes around my finger. Tremulous, I lean to kiss him. He closes his eyes. How incredible: I'm hard again. He is half-hard, which is a good sign. I feel him relaxing, and move my fingers deeper. He bucks his hips.

"Relax," I tell him, not recognising that coarse, broken voice as my own.

Salazar, if he asks me to stop now, it will be hell. So, I will have to use some tricks to distract him. I lower my mouth to his nipple, circle it with my tongue, bite it gently, blow on it, lick the already hard peak. He wriggles, and now I can flex my finger slightly inside him.

"Yes. That's it," I say, trying to calm him.

I withdraw my finger a little and, plunging it again, I add a second. He gasps, biting his lower lip. I turn my attention to the other nipple, sucking it, squeezing it, just to distract him from the invasion. I plunge deeper, with the assurance of someone who has already travelled this road and knows where to go, until... oh. He arches his entire body and murmurs something incomprehensible. Then he stares me in awe. "What... ?"

"Oh, that's a tiny and magic gland called the prostate. That's the reason why it is not bad being, as people say, the 'bottom'. However, not everybody feels what you have felt. Also it doesn't happen always."

"If... you do it again once or twice, I'm going to come again."

"That would be terrible," I joke.

Now he is totally hard, and we both are covered in sweat.

I stretch him a little further. He tries to pull my fingers deeper into him, building up a rhythm... I withdraw my fingers slowly. At first, he looks at me with disappointment. When he sees that I'm holding the flagon again and lavishly spreading the lube over my erect cock, his eyes sparkle in expectancy. My hands tremble wildly. I can't remember ever seeing them trembling so much. Perhaps under some Cruciatus that I, Merlin be praised, don't remember.

"You... still can go back, Harry. From now on, it will be more difficult for me to stop. You must be sure."

"They say the first time is always painful, I know. But I don't care. I want to feel you inside me."

I would want to protect him, to say that it won't hurt, but what would be the point of lying? Soon he will know. One cannot describe or explain an experience like that.

I kiss him again, almost tenderly. Then I spread his legs and lift his hips, searching for the best angle.

"Harry," I whisper, leaning over and penetrating him.

  
Oh! I didn't expect it could be so good! How different from Pier. Could it be because he really desires me as I desire him? So hot, so tight, and he welcomes me with such eagerness. So perfect. I must make a supreme effort not to slam him down and ravish him. He shudders, arches against me, and grabs me fiercely, digging his nails into my skin. I cup his cock in my hand, making him pant and moan. Oh, each moan that he lets out seems to echo in the very marrow of my bones, and excites me in a nearly unbearable way. I lie on top of him, propped up on my elbows. He wraps me with legs and arms, and I move inside him, slipping in and out at the slowest rhythm I can manage.

"Oh! Severus," he murmurs, following my rhythm.

The friction of our bodies together is more and more intense, and I pump him in the same rhythm of my thrusts. Faster and faster. Our hearts beat wildly, our sweat blends together and run down our skins. I feel him starting to throb, so I squeeze his cock, rubbing my thumb over his most sensitive vein. Finally, Harry climaxes, covering my hand with his dense and warm fluid. I grab him with all my might and thrust harder, faster, deeper into him. Gradually, I'm dragged into the same vortex of pure bliss.

"Harry," I whisper again, releasing my semen inside him. "My Harry."

~*~*~

I must have slept for a few minutes. I am waking up, feeling his body next to mine. I pull him against me. He opens his eyes.

"Severus... I, uh, want to ask you something."

"What is it?" I ask, concerned. He seems sad. Did I hurt him?

"Please... I don't want you to erase my memory. I want to keep it with me forever. And... I don't want this to be the last time."

I raise my head. What is he saying? I stare at him, intrigued. "Why?"

He gazes at me, first in astonishment, then with sadness and disappointment. Bloody hell. What have I done wrong now?

"Was it so bad? You... don't want me any more?" he says, trying to keep his voice steady, but failing completely.

Oh, Merlin. This boy is a more powerful wizard than me, and yet, emotionally, he's as crippled as myself. Am I hurting him? Nonetheless, I must understand what goes through his mind. I must ask. "What is it that _you_ want from me?"

"What I want? Why do you have to be so impossible? I want _you_. Always. Forever."

I cannot believe him. "Are you insane? Why would you want an old and ugly creature, with a colossal nose, greasy hair and sallow skin, that will never give you flowers and chocolates, that will never recite poetry in your ears? You are The Boy Who Lived, and you can have any lover you fancy. There must be a thousand lovers better than me, capable of giving you the care and the affection you need."

"I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

I shake my head, in despair. The teenagers and their big words. Never. Nothing. Nobody. Always. Everything. Forever.

Somehow, my reaction, or non-reaction, seems to have calmed him. He makes a knowing nod, as if understanding my game. "Did you think," he says, "that I wouldn't want you after the first time?"

I will not reply to this. Problem is, if I don't do something, he will keep talking. Or he will want to have sex again, and I don't have the energy for that now. Time has come for a diversionist manoeuvre.

"Listen, let's have tea." I leap off the bed and go to a wardrobe. "Sometimes I think that Pier's room is like the Room of Requirement: everything we need, we find. It's amazing."

I produce two dressing gowns from the wardrobe. I toss him the red and golden one, with a rampant lion stamp, and I put on the green and silver one, with a sinuous serpent.

~*~*~

A cup of Earl Grey, apple cakes and a sixteen-year-old lover. Much better than the Room of Requirement or the Mirror of Erised. Severus Snape, if this is the Beauty and the Beast, who knows, perhaps you have been transformed into a Prince. Is there a normal magic mirror here, so I can check?

Ahem. Let's focus on more serious issues.

"And now, have I earned the right to learn how you unveiled my secret?"

"I'm not sure... Do you promise not to erase my memory? And that you'll meet me again here?"

"What are you saying? Meeting you again here?"

"Yeah. Why not? I'll pay."

I show him my most offended expression. "Are you mistaking me for a whore?"

"Er. N-no. I'm just going to pay for the room. On Friday nights."

"You won't do anything of the sort."

"I won't?"

"No, you won't. Do you know that I have a house?"

"Oh! The Snape Manor!"

"Ha ha ha. That's a nice one. The Snape Manor. No, sir. My father left me only hideous memories as legacy. That house I acquired with my miserable salary. A small cottage, on the edge of a wood, far from the nearest city. A sitting room, a dining room, a kitchen, two bedrooms and a Potion laboratory..."

He rolls his eyes, as if thinking, "I should have known". Suddenly his expression changes, and he looks at me with an ear-to-ear smile. "You mean... Are you inviting me to..."

"That remains to be decided. Until the end of this night, I might have second thoughts." Or _you_ might. "Now tell me your story. My patience is running out."

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, might not live this time. Not after telling me the appaling story of how the Weasley twins sent my Quidditch Captain on a trip through the pipes. Not after I came to know that my reputation is in the hands of the same Weasley twins. Not after I concluded that Harry Potter must be a descendent of Slytherin. There cannot be another explanation.

"The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," he says.

He is so Slytherin that he deceived the Hat, forcing it not to put him in Slytherin. He's not more Slytherin than Albus, it is true, but a fight between the two of them wouldn't be easily decided. "So not even the delinquents themselves know where they sent Montague to?"

Eating an apple cake, he only nods.

"Then we go back to zero," I state.

"Why don't you ask Kai to make a Sandpainting ceremony for Montague?"

"Mr Potter, sometimes your brain seems to function. It is a rare phenomenon, but it happens. Yours is not a bad idea. Kai had already suggested it to me; however, I was waiting to see if I could discover more solid information on what had happened to Montague."

"Ron thinks that Montague is better now, because he was a harsh and stupid git. I fought with Ron because of that. Do you reckon that Montague's going back to be like he was?"

"Weasley said that? And you fought with him?" I try not to demonstrate that I am... flattered by that. On behalf of my House. "Nobody knows for sure what will happen to Montague, but the whole concept behind the Healing Ceremony is to reintegrate the personality. Hence, I believe that he will be able to recuperate what he has lost with the 'accident', and at the same time he won't forget his more recent experiences."

Harry stares at a distant point, contemplative. "After Kai made the Sandpainting for me, you know, I started to feel the Castle in a different way. Now I have a kind of bond with the Castle. And I know that Dumbledore also has this same bond."

Ah-hah. So that's how Albus always knows what happens inside there?

"Harry... If we are going to pursue this... we must be very careful at Hogwarts. If it is true that Albus has a special bond with the Castle, that he can feel anything that happens inside there, we must behave like monks while we are in the Castle precincts."

"Like we have been doing until now. Because otherwise you'll go to Azkaban."

"Yes. Your virginity is still a commodity highly valued in the market, because you haven't reached age of consent yet. However, this will change in a few months..." I smirk, and he looks at me intrigued, not knowing if I'm joking or not. "Anyway, I don't want to lose my job. It is not the job of my dreams, but it's the only one I've got." I see him looking at the teapot. "Do you want more tea?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to call me 'Sir' here, but a modicum of politeness is still appreciated."

As expected, he rolls his eyes. "Yes, please. Sir."

I pour a cup for him and another for me. He takes another cake.

"It would also be wise if you stopped fighting with Ron Weasley," I advise him.

"What? Why?"

"He might cause you problems. It is wiser to have him on your side. He is only jealous of Granger. And of you too."

"Jealous of me?"

"As a friend," I explain. "You haven't been talking to him these days as often as you used to do."

"I can't talk to him because he's... prejudiced and..."

"Ah-hah, I have no doubt of that. He is horrible."

He gives a sardonic smile. "Poor Ron, you're right. It must be a nightmare: he thinks that he's lost his two best friends, and to... Slytherins!"

Suddenly I feel... happy. We are managing to play with those big words that separate us. To play. Have I ever used these words in a non-negative sense? Sincerely, I can't remember.

I finish a cake and empty my cup. "Since this is the night of disclosure, I will tell you a story myself."

He is all attention now. I continue.

"It is true that Kai's parents are working in the Department of Mysteries, but they are_ not_ developing any secret project there. The truth is that they only came to Britain to bring Kai and transmit through him all the information necessary so that I could develop the Sandpotion."

"Wicked! So that story was just a smoke screen?"

"Precisely. The Headmaster had this brilliant idea of inviting Kai to Hogwarts. It seemed more practical than trying to devise a plan to secretly put me in contact with his parents. It wasn't easy to convince his parents to bring him, because of their traditions. I don't even know how the Headmaster managed to do it. As is typical of Albus, he only informed me of his plan one week after Kai had already been sorted into Slytherin and everything was set in stone. And I hope you won't be disappointed to learn that it was also Dumbledore who... suggested that I included you in the project."

"So you forced me to take Remedial Potions because..."

"Oh, no! You had to take Remedial Potions because you were and still are a disaster in Potions!"

  
He pouts.

"What I am saying is that, if it was up to me to decide, you would continue to practise Potions and nothing else. However, the Headmaster insisted: 'It will be very good for him to participate on this project, Severus'," I mimic Albus's voice, making Harry laugh. Another rare experience in my life. I am not used to making people laugh. Except for my Slytherin snakelets, now and then.

"You can't say he was wrong," says Harry, thoughtful. "It's really done me good. And I gave my contribution to the potion, with my brilliant idea of the Mormon Tea."

"Your modesty is astonishing. That was just a detail in the whole process."

He glares at me. I pretend not to pay attention. "The Sandpotion is very effective. I believe that, depending on the dosage of ingredients, we can derive many sub-potions from it, with various effects. There is still much research to be done."

"Do you... Can you tell me whom you are testing the potion on?"

"Well, well. On whom do you think?"

He arches an eyebrow. Is he starting to resemble me? "On the Death Eaters?"

"Spot-on. The earlier tests I distributed among various Death Eaters from inferior ranks. At first, with highly diluted doses. Then I elevated the doses gradually. I could not risk being caught. But now that we are approaching the final stages... I've chosen Mulciber as my guinea pig." The horror expression in the boy's face makes me fear that I might be going too far, that he might not understand me. I try to justify myself. "Don't look at me so aghast. He is sordid. A real monster. Dolohov and the Lestranges are worse, it is true, but they are too close to the Dark Lord, it would be too risky. Mulciber is not as close to him, but he is vile. I haven't told Albus that I was going to do this because... I didn't want to put him in another morally difficult situation. It's always like that: I try to spare him from the morally ambiguous choices."

"Assuming all of them yourself?"

I shrug. "At any rate, I didn't believe the potion could have any negative effect. About two weeks ago, I gave him a dose of a modified version of the Sandpotion, a stronger version, which I call 'Sandpotion B'. I mixed it in the fifth or sixth glass of Firewhisky that I poured for him. He got completely... how is it that they say... stoned. He went into another dimension. He kept staring into the unfathomable nothingness, babbling incoherently, smiling like a fool. I sent him home and told all the others that he had drunk too much - which wasn't exactly a lie, and happens all the time. Then... he never came back! The Dark Lord called him last week, twice, and he didn't show up. Yesterday night I was sent to search for him at his house. He wasn't there, but his brother, who lives with him, told me that Mulciber's Dark Mark had disappeared, and that, afraid of what the Dark Lord might do when he discovered, he had decided to disappear too. His brother said also that Mulciber had changed a lot and didn't want to be a Death Eater any more."

"Blimey, that's brilliant! Do you think that the potion changes people's personality?"

"I cannot be positive yet. But isn't it amazing? We discovered a way to eliminate the Dark Lord's influence over the Death Eaters!"

"You... you can get rid of your mark," he says, full of hope.

"Do you feel repulsed by the mark?"

"No! But wouldn't you like to be free of..."

I interrupt him. "Oh, no. This mark is my passport to his inner circle, and I must be as close to him as possible."

"Ugh!" He grimaces, then stares at me with dreamy eyes. "Do you think Kai can be right? That we can 'convert' Voldemort? With that potion?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to delude myself with vain hope. Also I don't want to risk my position, at least for the time being. He doesn't drink or eat anything offered by anyone. We want to be careful. I don't want my cover to be blown."

"You know..." He seems to waver.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if I trust..." he pauses, and my blood freezes. "... Dumbledore."

I feel, at the same time, relief and concern. "Why?"

"Since I've entered the mandala, I have a clearer notion of his powers. Of everybody's powers." He looks determined. "And I feel that he's infinitely more powerful than Voldemort."

"But you don't know how powerful the Dark Lord is, do you? I thought you only could feel the power of the wizards in Hogwarts."

"Yes, but I can feel Voldemort's power in my dreams. And I feel that, even now, Dumbledore would be able to defeat him. Easily."

"That's not possible, Harry. Why wouldn't he do it then?"

"That's exactly what I don't understand. Could it be that he believes blindly in that stupid prophecy?"

"Do you believe that the prophecy is a fraud... as I do?"

His eyes twinkle. "I do. I can't understand how anyone as intelligent as Dumbledore can believe in such codswallop."

"I have always been mystified by that."

It's so good to be able to _talk_ with someone! I didn't even notice how I missed that. Someone as haunted by doubts and anxieties as myself. Someone who feels that those doubts might be their death, one day. Someone who is also a victim of both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Even if he is a totally involuntary victim, while I have buried myself with my own hands.

On the other hand, it is easier to accept the risk when it is your own life at stake. Knowing that he is exposed to danger... that is a different story. I would like to protect him, to take him away, far away from this entire nightmare.

However, for us, this nightmare is life itself, isn't it? We wouldn't be together if we didn't share this same nightmare. We can't live our whole lives waiting for a perfect future. We can only count with what we have here and now. Perhaps the ideal moment would never come to existence.

In a certain way, this is a turning point for me. I'm switching sides... again. Protecting Harry is now my priority, and not any political agenda from any of the sides fighting in this wretched war. I won't say that I won't do the dirty work for Dumbledore. He is infinitely less dangerous than the Dark Lord. But I will play his game only for Harry's sake, and as long as it doesn't put Harry's life in risk.

Our cups are empty and so is the teapot. I get up and lead him back to the bed by the hand. I take off his dressing gown, then mine. We snake our way under the green blankets and sheets. I prop my head on my hand, resting my elbow on the bed. We are face to face, and I slide my hand down the side of his body.

"I want to ask you something," he says.

"Go on."

"Pier told me that... er... that you've been coming here for about ten months now. And that you've always used the Polyjuice Potion."

I feel cold in the pit of my stomach and my whole body tenses. That's not a subject I would like to talk about with him. "And?"

"Well, I... I wanted to know if... if Pier has always impersonated me, since the first time that you came here."

It couldn't get worse. If I tell him everything, it will be difficult not to succumb to the temptation of casting the Memory Charm on him, because... I will never be able to face him again.

"I didn't want to tell you this, Harry. Sincerely. But if you are going to keep imagining things in your foolish head, perhaps I should tell you once and for all. I have never said that I am a good person. Never. Don't tell me that I didn't warn you."

He rests a hand on my chest, so fragile. I try not to give in to my protective instincts. I have to be merciless now, if I really want to protect him.

"I started coming here by the end of that term, when Umbridge took control of Hogwarts. I needed an outlet for all the tension of being a spy. And it was a long time since I had a lover. How would I find a lover? At Hogwarts, there were no options. Among the Death Eaters? It would mean adding another risk to all the ones I was already facing. The Polyjuice Potion was just a... funny idea I had, to fulfil one of my fantasies, in a twisted way. Not that my sexual fantasies were exclusively with you. It was simply more practical to choose a unique person. If I had had access to any part of Black's body, perhaps I would have used him. I hated him much more than I hated you. But he would never let me get as close to him as to catch one of his hairs. While you, well, on that very day when I caught you snooping in the pensieve with my memories, you left a lot of hairs around my office. I couldn't think of anything but getting my revenge on you after that, and that's the reason why I have kept them in an envelope. Some weeks later, when I decided to look for... someone like Pier, someone amenable to fulfilling my fantasies, I remembered that."

He is all attention. If he were so attentive in my Potion classes, he would be my best student. The tension between us makes me sick. I want to finish with this right now.

"Well, Harry... It was a fantasy, foolish as they can be. I would come here and have you kneel at my feet, suck my cock, get on all fours in front of me... Those and many other things that perhaps I will never tell you. I had a lot of fun."

"But tonight... when you arrived tonight, you said that..."

"Since you started to get closer to me, everything changed. It was a gradual process, wasn't it? First you said that you didn't hate me any more. Then Kai and the Headmaster kept warning me that you were depressed, that you were being attracted to the Dark Path, but I dismissed their concerns until... until that night, when you tried to cross the veil. Perhaps Mrs Clauschee is a real seer... I can't believe it was just a coincidence that the Clauschees called me precisely that night. Bloody hell, boy... Just of thinking that I could have lost you forever, I panicked. That day I noticed that what I felt for you wasn't hate any more. Until then, I could delude myself, but after that... Nonetheless, I tried to protect myself from those feelings. For several weeks, I stopped coming here, imagining that, if I stopped with the fantasies, I would be able to distance myself from you. I tried to drive you off, but... you came back. I started to think that... that perhaps you wanted me too. Then my fantasies changed. Every Friday I would come here and stage the same foolish tale, in which you desired me and I would be your first and give you so much pleasure that you would want to keep me forever."

I pull him to me and bury my face in his hair, because I can't stand facing him any more. Now I'm sure that I will have to erase his memory. There's no other way.

However, he hides his face in my hair too and whispers, "I had the same fantasy. Only I didn't have Polyjuice Potion to help me. I had to satisfy myself with my imagination and... my hands."

The image of Harry masturbating while thinking of me has powerful effects in my body and soul.

Then he tangles his fingers in my hair and withdraws a little to face me.

"Tell me... You aren't with me to... It's not some kind of revenge over my father or something like that, is it?"

Ha! The human mind has many layers. In one of them, I am laughing at James's face, because I am fucking his precious son. But not even I would be able to delude myself thinking that this has any importance now, nor could I mention anything so cruel to him in such a vulnerable moment.

"I don't see James Potter anywhere on this bed," I reply. "Please do me a favour and keep him out of it. I have many perversions, but necrophilia is not among them."

He smiles, and his eyes shine so brightly that make me blink. "Severus, this night... was so perfect that, if I told, nobody would believe me."

_And all because of your Slytherinish plan. You have won, impossible brat. I won't erase your memory. I want you to remember, I need that. Now you carry a part of me with you._

My hand searches for his cock, hard and erect again, and hold it with a possessive grip.

"Now it's your turn to top," I tell him.

Once again he stares at me in awe, as if the world has turned upside down.

 

The End?

_Not really. The story continues in "Almost One Thousand and One Nights"._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**Here**](http://ptyx.noigandres.com/mandala_e.html) you can see the amazing painting created by Jereeza to illustrate "Mandala".


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